


Terran Federation: Counterstrike

by l4oftheWEST



Series: Terran Federation [2]
Category: Mass Effect - All Media Types, Starship Troopers - Robert A. Heinlein
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-23
Updated: 2019-11-18
Packaged: 2020-07-12 01:20:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 17
Words: 125,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19937662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/l4oftheWEST/pseuds/l4oftheWEST
Summary: It’s been 8 years since the end of the 2nd Bug war. Humanity is starting to enter its golden age in the galactic stage, with technology no one can replicate, with allies that no one has accepted, and a military capable of taking on any competitor it seems. But that will change, those who employ chains are circling like wolves, and an enemy thought dead resurges with a vengeance.





	1. Chapter 1

Edited by a person of many names Blood Raven AKA TimedRaven117. Go check out his story Mass Effect: X-Com Theory!

~[==|==]~

Welcome to Fed Net News Network, for all your Citadel and Terran Federation News Needs!

All quiet on the western front 

It has been 8 years after the 2nd Bug War. The Arachnid Empire has been completely eradicated from Terran territory and all investigated planetoids in a 100 Lightyear distance. Small colonies have begun to grow on that new frontier, though most wonder if this is a safe idea. To be better informed we’ve asked Sky Marshal Enolo Phid for a comment. 

Enolo Phid: Well of course it’s safe to settle in the region. We’ve found no trace of any bug presence after the last redoubts were smashed by our forces in the last push. And with the StoneWall Project, we will assure the safety of all Federal Citizens from even the small incursions the feral bugs could throw at us. That isn’t to say we won’t be prepared for the inevitable, but barring extreme and unfortunate circumstances, it’s impossible for the bugs to strike back within a hundred years time.

Strong words from a strong leader! The Future looks bright in the west, so don’t be afraid to settler there! Consult your local colonial recruiter today about what you can do to gain citizenship and adventure in the frontiers of space.

Do you want to know more? Continue

~[==|==]~

Terran Foreign Legion Recruitment Video: Turian

You! Yes you! Out of the good ol’ Corp? Looking for a job to put those killer skills to use? Maybe you’re looking for a change of scenery or adventure? Maybe you want to set up a life for you and your family outside of the Hierarchy, with people who understand and respect your culture and way of life? Perhaps you want an alternative to the criminal haven that is the Terminus?

Then maybe the Terran Federation is the place for you! You want a war story in a real war? You want to meet men and women who have a bond tighter than family? People who have had to fight in a war that would make your ancestors proud? People with a culture and history that is as varied as the stars we roam? We don’t discriminate! The Space Wings need pilots, the Mobile Infantry need experienced NCOs, we need heroes, we need you!

Remember: Service! Guarantees! Citizenship! 

Become a Dual-Citizen today!

A message from the Terran Federation Council to the Turian Hierarchy, brought to you by the Federation News Network, and Citadel News Network.

Do you want to know more? Exit

~[==|==]~

Saren Arterius, formerly 1st Talon Leader for the 97th Palavan Legion, closed the video on his omnitool as he looked to the Terran Recruiting Center. It looked… Packed. Turians, Asari, Salarians, even a few Batarians and Quarians. He reigned in his resentment.

For years he’d been stonewalled at every corner of his career. He’d made Talon Commander, the equivalent of a Terran Company, before his brother’s disappearance. That day he promised himself he would discover what had happened to his brother. He excelled at everything, he fought tooth and nail in every engagement, cared for his men, and trained until his talon’s were raw and what did he get? He was denied even the most traditional of advancements.

As if someone were purposefully halting his progress. He was told by his commanders that he was a shoe in for officerships, for Blackwatch, for possibly even Spectre status, and just like himself, they were astounded when he was denied. It was a travesty and a waste of his skills. So it was when he finally ran his 15 years he declined a second term of service and went to the Citadel to seek his fortune more directly. Lacking his brother’s high placement in the military he no longer had an in for higher command, no longer had anyone’s ear. It was like he had inherited a curse from his brother. This had built up as resentment in him.

And he had nearly given up hope in getting anywhere legally until he saw that ad in his inbox. Taking a deep breath he got in line and waited in the queue. Being near so many different aliens was uncomfortable for him, he had been raised as a proud Turian, to see to his people's needs. But his vow would require him to work with the Terrans, who to his knowledge were honorable and capable soldiers on their own, but lacked Citadel War making experience and military theory. If anyone would accept him, it would be the Terrans. 

Even as he thought that, he was soon greeted by a Human, he was missing his legs, and his face was also slightly replaced with obvious plastic replacements. He looked horrible, as if he had stepped on a mine. “Gud mornin’ son, what can ah do ya fer?” He asked, as if he were as cheery as could be. 

“Yes, I’d like to enlist as a soldier.” Saren said neutrally, trying not to stare. 

The man just smiled at him, and felt his metal and plastic synthetic jaw, “Ah’ve been gettin’ ah lot o’ Tur’ans lyke ya asking dat sam’ t’ing. Ahmost aww of ‘hem ex-pec-ted ta git raght in, no que-stions asked, no testin’, ah lot o’ them were awso from dose colony worlds ta Hagher-archy don’t cantrol. Thinking dat mahybe Federal Service whould be eaysier dan Hagher-archy con-scrip-tion.”

Saren didn’t know how to respond, his translator barely managed to translate the man’s garbled speech, “Ya see wat hap-pen ta meh? Stepped on ah Skinnie mine back on Fortunde VI, last mah legs, and a piece of shrap-nal barely mhissed mah head und in-stead took out mah jaw and cheek. Ah’ve neva been mor’ thankfu’ ta be ahlave dan now. Naw, ear’s the que-stion: Ya willin’ to lose dose fringes? Ta lose yer legs? Ta lose yer life? Ahll fer a cause ya may not eva’ understand?”

Saren knew his answer, “The only cause I would need to understand is the soldier by my side. The only ambition I have is to see my brother again.” The Man’s eyes lit up, as if he saw something special in the Turian.

“An’ Ah Be-Lieve ya.” Typing something up, he then produced a printed out paper and stamped it. “Reeport ta da ad’ress on dat paper 0600 sharp! Yaw’re reel intavew is den!”

~[==|==]~

Batarians a threat? 

Another attack in the north west by Batarian pirates last week has created a coalition of governors asking the Federation to take action against the Hegemony, though there is no proof that the Batarian government is behind these attack they do seem less than helpful when locating the pirates bases in their territorial claims. The Federal government though does not see the Batarians as a threat to the Federation compared to the Fourth, whose raids are far more deadly and destructive, and on bigger colonies. No doubt Federal authorities will raise a complaint with the Citadel but it’s doubtful military action will be called on or be deemed necessary. 

Do you want to know more? Continue

~[==|==]~

Terran Foreign Legion Recruitment Video: Quarian

Down on your luck? No one willing to hire you for whatever reason?

The Terran Federation will never discriminate against those who wish to join!

We accept anyone with the guts to pass our rigorous training! We will teach you the skills that will help you in life. We will give you a place in our society that you can be proud of! All while earning a generous salary, food and board provided while you serve.

Not interested in purely military service? Our doors are open for scientists, pilots, accountants, engineers, and more!

Join us today! Because remember, Service guarantees citizenship!

Warning: Acceptance into training is not guaranteed.   
A message from the Terran Federation Council to the Quarian people, brought to you by the Federation News Network, and Citadel News Network.  
Do you want to know more? Exit

~[==|==]~

Kal’Reegar lowered his own omni-tool as he looked at the recruiting station, the address matched up, and he looked at the packed recruiting station. Dozens of people were shoulder to shoulder in line to the five desks manned by maimed Humans in the small room that made up this station. It was so full it reminded him of home. That brought a moment of nostalgia of being on the Jessan. A small boarding corvette, home of the Reegar clan, one of the many influential family blocks that made up the fleet. Kal himself was barely 17, he had been travelling for more than a year trying to find steady employment but no one was hiring Quarians and he didn’t exactly have the technical skills to be a must have commodity. Sure he could repair a life pod with nothing but his omni-tool, and with enough scrap and a pound of eezo make it do FTL jumps, but he wasn’t exactly Zorah Family level technical genius.

Without thought he got in the queue, and waited patiently as he played a simple Quarian game on his HUD while he waited. He filtered out the people around him, to the point where he almost missed being called up by one of the maimed Humans. She looked to be in her mid years by asari standards, perhaps even less than that, strong features that were accentuated by the exotic skin tone, which was a light mud black color, but it was marred by the lattice of scar and burn tissue. Behind his mask he winced, injuries like that on Quarians were excruciatingly painful, her right arm was also missing, replaced by a cybernetic replacement. 

Her black hair was cropped short, and was long in the back that formed a tail like braid. Her eyes were the most striking, brown irises on pure white. “Well? Are you done staring?” The woman asked in a stern battle worn voice. Those eyes still struck him, they looked just like his father's. 

His glowing eyes blinked, “I’m sorry, forgive my poor manners. I’d like to enlist in the marines.” She stared at him.

“Registration? References? Previous family information?” She asked tersely, not rudely, tersely, like his father asked recruits when on duty. 

Wordlessly, he brought up his omni-tool, transcribed his “resume” into Terran standard, and tried to send it to her, it linked to her desk which brought up a holographic interface. She cupped her chin in her cybernetic replacement, carefully tracing the deep red scar that was once a gash perhaps a year ago. “Kal’Reegar vas’Jessan, 17 standard Years, no official employment history, not unusual for a Quarian your age. No criminal record.”

“If you don’t mind me asking ma’am…” She looked up at him with an arched eyebrow.

“Yes prospect?” Wincing once more behind his mask, Reegar sighed, ‘Great I’m not even being considered recruit.’ 

“How did you lose your arm? I don’t think it’s likely you just misplaced it somewhere at home.” He winced at his weak attempt at a joke.

However she smirked ever so slightly, before her real hand, calloused and scarred as it was, traced along the bionic metal from her elbow to her wrist, “Tanker bug, they spit an acidic flame, dissolved my arm to the shoulder, nothing left but a puddle of goo on some no name desert planet of Urilla. Got the scars on my face from a gas explosion fighting fire fries. The one on my chin was when a Skinnie with an axe thought he could take out my jaw like Chinny over there. My chin guard on my light armor stopped it mostly.” Chinny upon his name being spoken had the entire office of Terrans shout out, “Chinnnnnnny!” Much to the confusion of everyone and the embarrassment of the man with the metal chin.

“Why do you ask prospect?” She demanded with a dead seriousness, her smirk gone.

“For a Quarian such injuries are usually near fatal or debilitating for a long time. A Quarian unlucky to have all three of those things happen to them and to survive is the mark of both extreme courage and remarkable tenacity.” He explained carefully.

“You wouldn’t know it, but I screamed like a little girl when I got my arm burned off, when my face got burned badly I cried tears of blood. When I got hit in the chin I was so pumped up on combat stims and adrenaline that I beat the Skinnie who hit me to death with his own axe, AFTER removing it from my face.” She made a motion as if pulling something off of her face. “Every single time my squad mates would always ask, ‘are you alright Birdie?’, do you know what I said?”

Kal pondered an answer for a short moment before replying, “I’m not dead aren’t I?”

She smiled, her pearly white teeth contrasting with her skin, “No, haha, I screamed out for a goddamn medic…. What would you do if you had a major suit breech prospect?”

Kal thought once again for a moment, before pulling out an anecdote from his father, “I’d say a prayer to the ancestors, trust in my combat clamps, kill the bosh’tet who hit me with the flat end of my rifle, inject copious amounts of antibiotics, and continue the fight. All in that order.” 

She smiled at him, “Well Recruit.” She typed in something on her console and a paper got printed out before it was stamped, “The real interview is at 0600 sharp. Address is on the paper, if you need a place to stay tonight, go in now and report in.”

Kal couldn’t believe the paper he was being handed, he thought for sure they’d make a show of looking at him and then send him away. “Yes ma’am, I’ll report in immediately!”

~[==|==]~

Citadel space, Citadel station, Citadel Council Conference Room 1A 2666GS/2338AD february 15 

Tevos sat at the old red wood table with her colleagues. The last 8 years had brought more change then she was used to. The technology and ideology spilling out of Terran space was the main subject of discourse today. So much was changing so fast she had been forced to call this meeting. She wished the other councillors who had been there originally when the Terrans arrived on the galactic stage were still with her, but Gallius had retired last year, and Cenike had come to his natural end three months ago. So she had to work with relatively fresh meat. 

For the Salarians, Valern was young and suspicious, but flexible. He’d been STG as was typical tradition of a Councillor, he also had nearly a decade of political experience and of political sciences, substantial for a Salarian, but his assignment last year after being sworn in meant he was still becoming familiar with his post. 

The Turian representative was a hero of the Terran Contact War, Kalio Gainus. he did not run for the position but had it forced on him as a political posting for Gainus due to his close ties and understanding with the Terrans, an increasingly necessary feature these days. But he was an okay sort and had actually been in Terran Federation space, seen the real Terrans, seen the many enemies the Terran’s had, and not that front their ambassador put forward.

Standing up, Tevos began, “We stand at the crossroads for the Citadel, a situation that does not come often. The Terrans as we all know are becoming an increasing issue.”

“Agreed.” Valern concurred, “Their ships and FTL drives has significantly devalued Element Zero, not by an amount noticeable to the public, but the signs are present, if it weren’t for the Federation themselves buying so much at record lows in price, we’d have faced a severe recession that would have extended galaxy wide.”

Tevos nodded her agreement as the former Turian admiral added, “That's the only problem for the economy, it will sort itself out eventually, especially due to the expertise of the Volus, bless their suits.” The Volus had been put upon increasingly to provide financial stability, the crash in Eezo prices, the galactic standard for universal currency, and market shares for Eezo processing and mining, would have been ensured if it weren’t due to the expert handling and trade deals established with the Terrans. “However if you look at things on a military front we’re having some strained relations. The Batarians are continuing to antagonize the Humans, so far nothing tragic has happened thanks to Terran reluctance to place any substantial Civilian populations on the border, but one of these days the Batarians are going to start a war with that Federation, and barring some substantial evidence against the Batarians showing them as the antagonists, they're going to drag us into it, and I personally do not relish the thought of having a war between what can be best classified as two superpowers on the galactic stage. Their lack of need for Relays and use of nuclear weapons already makes them a significant strategic threat if they were to ever feel threatened.” 

Tevos nodded, they were already in agreement, this was all simply being officially transcribed for the purpose of record keeping, ”That my fellow Councillors, is why I suggest we must fast track the Terran Federation to join the Citadel Council as a member state.” 

Gainus raised a fringe, “I have heard of reports from Turian Spectre Verpine warning of the necessity of it, but I’m surprised you’re outright suggesting it Tevos.”

Valern nodded in understanding, “If the Federation officially joins with the Citadel, the economy will fix itself by entering a complete circuit, profits that go into the Federation would then have Federation investment going out to support other ventures as economies of scale and galactic transportation become a factor it will be cheaper to outsource production to other planets, we will no longer have a drain on our system and if the Batarians do attempt to start a war, they’ll be signing their own death warrants as we cut off all trade and military access to the Hegemony and allow the Federation to annex them if they feel so inclined. Better to have the Federation as our buffer state than the Hegemony any longer.”

“But won't this make us more vulnerable to Terran Military Intelligence? Ambassador Maghernus has clearly stated that the Federation is not inclined to join as anything less than as a full member, and we have no substantial incentives for them to join for anything less than an equal part.” Gainus pointed out sharply. There’ll be hell to pay if the Federation were to just bypass centuries of process and diplomatic lollygagging. Not even the Volus had been given a council seat despite sorely deserving it for more than a thousand years. It would make the Council look weak and afraid of the Federation for the entire galaxy to see.

“While Military Intelligence is most certainly efficient, they also have a conserved relation to immigration and expansion, their defeat of the Arachnids left more than a military doctrine of a slow war, it also brought on the mental mindset to not make rapid military or colonization advances without proper procedure and preparation first. This has completely stonewalled us at all aspects of espionage. If they were to join us, they’d have to open their markets, and inexperience combined with rapidity of it will open up more than enough holes for our agents to get entrenched. But as for incentives… Barring most unforeseen and horrendous circumstances, there are no incentives we can reasonably propose to the Federation that would see them even tempted.”

Tevos agreed, but looked pensive, “Please extrapolate what would require such ‘unforeseen’ circumstances?”

Valern took on a serious tone, “I’m talking of a war of proportions unseen since the Krogan Rebellions. The Terrans would have to suffer rapid and significant military defeats that would necessitate a military alliance between both ourselves and the Federation to ensure mutual survival and cooperation. This would be a war that would be in our interests to avoid at all cost and would significantly affect us as well as them, and so I would not suggest such an event, and would assist Terran Millitary to avoid it if possible. It is ultimately unnecessary, as the Terrans expand their economy and civilian population, we’ll get a foot in the door within the next hundred years, and by then the markets will stabilize, even if we see a substantial dip in all galactic productivity for the next few decades because of it. Our connection with the System’s Alliance gives us a diplomatic in with the Federation, and allows us to also interact with the Petolemaic Hegemony. This is not to mention our connection and joint operations with Cerberus who have been more than helpful in protecting the galaxy from threats, even if it comes at personal costs.” Bringing up General Desolas Arterius, Spectre Illia Verpine, Director Jack “Illusive Man” Harper, and Minister Carl Jenkins, the four minds behind the Cerberus organization, one of the few joint Citadel-Federation organizations that existed at the time. 

Cerberus had been busy categorizing and studying the objects they had termed “Artifacts of Great Paranormal Danger”. This had come at the cost of billions of Terran credits, the loss of more than few science teams and specialists, and their work proved vital to galactic safety after the incident 3 year ago with a Terminus warlord who had fallen under the effects of one such artifact and had threatened to cause genocides in ten systems. Spectre Verpine had led a team of Terran Pathfinders and Turian Blackwatch to remove the threat, in the process recovering the artefact for study.

Valern took a moment to breath, “As I see it, we should offer the Terrans provisional ambassadorial status, to be in great favor of them they’d have to sign no deals they don’t want to, and for the most part this deal will be clandestine and as an effort to open them up to further enticement. Beyond that, we will just have to let them come on their own.”

“The Volus won’t be pleased when this becomes known to them.” Gainus warned.

Tevos nodded in agreement, “If worse comes to worse we will give the Volus a seat on the council to placate them. I know this council has restricted their joining due to personal interest of preservation of power in our hands, but with the Terrans we will need a tie breaking species in our favor to tip any deadlocks that may form.”

~[==|==]~

Eastern Federation, Shanxi orbit, Williams Intersystem Starport 2666GS/2338AD february 16

Admiral Erica Chavez looked out of her office sipping the Thessian tea she had become hopelessly addicted to. Well addiction was a strong word, but it was pretty close, it helped her deal with the stress ever since she had been introduced to it, it was very soothing and helped her get through the day. It had been nine years since they used that damned asteroid as target practice, and she regretted it more than ever. Oh sure finding the Citadel species had saved her life and Shanxi and had resulted in her being catapulted up the ranks, but being a hero and becoming famous apparently meant you get more of a workload as everyone expected you to fix everything.

Relaxing and sitting back in her chair, she looked out the window at the glowing city of Shanxi below. It had grown many times the original size, now covering the battlefield that had made it so famous. Parks and little meadows dotted the landscape in places that marked significant skirmishes and holding host to little memorial shrines to the dead. The only place that was still an open field was where T'Phai and his Raiders had made their landing but even that had been converted into a training ground for the military for combat drops.

As people had predicted, Shanxi had become the most important system in the Eastern Federation, if not the de facto capital for the region as all trade with the Citadel passed through Shanxi’s numerous ports. Most of the other species never saw past Shanxi into the Federation, so every attempt was made to make Shanxi a model colony, such a success even drew colonists from the Citadel species. In the first few years, the Federation wasn't sure what to do about them, but it was soon realized this could expand their manpower reserves greatly, just in case the bugs ever came back, and so the brass moved to capitalize on it by granting land plots and other amenities to the species who came to colonize, preferential treatment was of course given to Humans for land, but most of the Humans stayed in the main city, or in the growing townships. The largest concentration of Human farmers was actually a large Mormon presence in the outer farmlands. 

This then lead to the formation of the Terran Foreign Legion, which sounded like some sort of bad joke Maghernus made, but so far they haven’t had many problems in regards to culture or discipline. It was actually somewhat similar to how they handled the Skinnies before the formation of the “Systems Alliance” to the South, and those Skinnies that still remained in the Federation out of loyalty or desire. However the species from the Citadel had a lot more to prove to their Terran Drill Sergeants, as a result their leadership, or “Officers of the Foreign Legion”, was primarily made up of xenophilic Terrans, and Petolemaic’s who had decided to go career. 

Now the Legion wasn’t just a military detachment of SICON, it also represented and maintained both Marital and civilian style occupations like construction, accounting, law enforcement, and even scientists. All Legionaries or aspirants were to however pass basic Federation boot camp regardless of later occupation and species. A Volus was expected to achieve the same physical goals as a Human, within reason of course. This was to show citizenship not as a title, but as a goal, a reward for service in the Federation that can’t be earned by just being a government employee, but by being a model for civilians to aspire to.

Those who had joined the Foreign Legion and showed great aptitude in training for leadership positions were either transferred to the NCO corp of the Legion, or to the general military for official officer training within the Federation. However, the Foreign Legion was mainly designed to operate in the Eastern region, Federation holdings outside the Federation proper (IE, the Citadel Embassy), and supporting actions within the Systems Alliance. The concerns of STG and Shadow Broker infiltration despite psionic weeding processes had many in the Federation concerned, so steps were being taken and they were slowly easing the idea in.

Each new species brought in new ideas, new religions, beliefs, and cultures. This wouldn't rock the Federation much due the isolation they would have from the rank and file and the literal physical distances of the Legion’s postings to the average Federal citizen. Maghernus had been a crafty bastard like that, giving them only minor political power compared to the Human population, and since they were in the Federal Holdings, and not the Federation proper, when they mustered out their political power would be centered away from the general Human population, a win win as far as the Federal Council was concerned as it wouldn't edge into traditional voting spheres.

But from interviews and psionic investigations, they did have a fairly good map of what each of their new recruits wanted. The most problematic in the future was the Krogan, generally it was either hoped for consciously or subconsciously that the Federation could find a way to cure them of their genophage. Erica wouldn’t touch that one, but she thought that there may be scientists out there who would be able to remove or lessen the effects. 

The Asari were the biggest pool of recruits. The sex appeal combined with a sense of adventure had combined to have the disadvantaged, the poor, or especially adventurous Asari join in unprecedented numbers. Nearly 10,000 Asari maidens and even a few experienced Matrons had joined up seeking a more permanent future in the Federation. Studies showed that most were seeing this as a quick fling, maybe bag a Human in the sack, see the Federation, ect. Only a small portion of them had been found unfit due to security reasons. But there were more than a few Asari who showed promise for officership and permanent residency in the Federation.

The second largest was the Turians, most of them were Turians who were more ambitious than your average bird. Some of them ruthlessly so, but most wanted another life away from the Hierarchy for a variety of reasons. They were willing to work hard and long hours, fight to the bitter end, and were almost universally sound physically and psychologically. Only a few were found to be attempted Shadow Broker plants, but they were handled tactfully. The largest subsections were Turian separatists or nationalists who wanted a life away from the Hierarchy proper, some were genuinely people who just wanted to get away from perceived or real tyranny, others wanted military training and connections with the Federation to further their goals. Those latter individuals would be given thorough indoctrination to abandon their cause. 

The next biggest group that tried to join were the Salarians, unfortunately, a large portion of them were found susceptible, or sympathetic of the STG, and so could not be counted upon to remain loyal to the Federation and the Federation only. Hence, most of them were declared unfit for military service for “Psychological and physical deficiencies.” As a compromise many who would normally be unfit for security reasons were instead given a career path in places they couldn't do harm or advance in, a few easily manipulated Salarian spies were being allowed in as a ruse, to be fed information and lies when it benefitted the Federation.

Next were a hodgepodge of minor races. Elcor, Hanar, Volus, Henathka, Kan, and the Batarians. The Batarians were the largest of these groups at a few thousand. Most of which were casteless or criminals who either desired reform, better legal opportunities, or a true opportunity at a good life. The criminals were being carefully screened, but it appeared most were genuinely trying to reform or achieve a better life.

And then there were the Quarians. Not many Quarians joined the Legion proper, instead directly applying for fleet or marine service on Shanxi as was typical to do before the Legion was officially formed, now most of those same recruits were being shunted to the Legion whether they wanted to or not. But they also brought in very interesting problems for people like her. 

Namely there were actually suggestions for forming a second Migrant Fleet. Many Quarians brought with them vital and unreplicable skills that the Federation desperately needed to catch up with Citadel ship making norms, that because of the embargo that only ended just recently, meant they could only get these skills from one reliable source before, the Quarians. Now this wasn’t a problem at first when they hired Daro’Xen and Jeefa’Sina, both of which were now accomplished scientists and engineers in their fields of study. And at the end of their contract four years ago, they had been given a generous reward, instead of paying them in Federal dollars they transferred that money into Federal civilian model starships. In total they had nearly eight frigates between them when they returned to the Migrant Fleet. They had then returned with those same frigates filled with hopeful Quarians wanting to join the Federation for Pilgrimage. Apparently the Federation had made enough of a mark on Daro and Jeefa that the stories of their studies and time living on the Gibraltar inspired thousands of young Quarians to seek their luck in the Federation. 

They were willing to work for shit pay, shit postings, and shit food just for the chance of bringing back a ship to the fleet or having a ship in the fleet be refurbished by Federal shipyards for a couple years of service. This was apparently an improvement from wandering the galaxy looking for work, salvage, or supplies, dealing with hardship, discrimination, and possible death. Daro’Xen had even became the captain of her own ship, the Istapah’Kela, meaning “Ferry of the Aspirant”, Jeefa’Sina’s was also a captain for the Gibraltar’Pas, Literally “Bridge of the Gibraltar”. Daro had handpicked her Pilgrims for their skills in scientific and engineering work while Jeefa’s ship had been filled to the brim with industrial workers or manufacturing specialists who bore valuable skills to the Federation that wasn't just labor. These ships full of pilgrims had just finished their pilgrimages, and were returning with ships of their own after informing the fleet for the necessary manpower to crew them. Each Frigate had born nearly a thousand crew when they returned to the Federation, with each scientist, engineer, or worker forgoing pay for two to four years for a ship of their own to return, most were smaller frigate or corvette class ships, with only couple kilometer long mass conveyance freighters, but the new flood of ship orders had resulted in a backlog, which was then addressed by the Quarians themselves in their off time who would actually assist in the manufacturing and shipbuilding process. And from these volunteering exercises, invaluable experience had been gained in Terran ship making industries. Quite literally, problems that Terran Shipwrights had never even thought of were solved in a blink of an eye with a line of code or mathematics, accepted sacrifices and time constraints were completely erased with novel and ingenious ideas or workarounds, and manufacturing techniques for materials both old and new were developed that squeezed every last ounce of potential from their designs at the same or even cheaper price.

To say it had revolutionized the Terran shipbuilding industry and the Quarian Migrant Fleet at the same time was not an exaggeration! Even now the best schools for ship making and design were hiring Qurian engineers and workers to teach Humans. And the flotilla of 8,000 ships, both old and new, were now on their way to the Migrant Fleet. And to the amazement of the Quarian people, the next generation’s best and brightest had been educated and got their first few years of work experience in Terran space, and that same generation felt they could call the Federation and its people friends.

This made a lot of people nervous. Not just the Shipbuilding guilds in the Federation, but every single species out in the Citadel Council and the Terminus systems. All those who relied upon cheap Qurian labor and intellectual slavery, who had relied upon Quarian traffic and mining to supply them and make them rich, for the Turian military who feared a joining of the Federation and Quarian fleets as one entity. The mere threat of an alliance could shake the power dynamics of the galaxy. While Quarians were looked down as thieves, beggars, and criminals, no one could deny the Quarians had a survivalist instinct within them. 

The sudden swell of business for ships in the Federation had caused a massive boom in the industry, so many new techniques and designs, and the sudden influx of experienced and eager talent in the Quarians had caused a golden age in all stages of ship production as demand had only just been met for the Quarian’s payment. And now with rumors that more Quarians would be devoting themselves to the Federation ship industry had caused investors to salivate. This was before the announcement for the Quarians being folded into the Legion’s ranks, and unless those Quarians were of the same caliber as Daro’Xen or Jeefa’Sina they weren't exactly going to be paid enough for a small fleet of ships, especially now that they had access to a much wider range of people to hire at much cheaper prices. But still, the “Gift” of 8,000 ships for the Quarian Migrant Fleet was something that wouldn’t go unnoticed for the aspiring Quarian engineer, scientist, programmer, or worker. 

The fad of hiring Quarians for ship building hadn’t just been solely within the business, it had also extended into the Fleet here in the East Federation. Quietly Erica had met a few Quarians, and she had made an impression upon them about possibly joining the Fleet. This apparently made such a significant mark upon them that they were planning on pursuing citizenship and joining the Fleet after some time in the Legion. Erica welcomed this, as Qurian experts were definitely something she was seeking. 

But there were a few issues with… a formal alliance with the Quarians. Namely, the Geth. The stated and final public goal of the fleet was to destroy the Geth and the return of the homeworld. This was their ultimate mission that they wished to achieve. Now, the Federation wasn't in the business of wars of aggression or pursuing a war across the entire galaxy. Because of this, official diplomatic communications were mainly centered around the large number of Quarian Pilgrims in their territory and their well being.

Sitting back and looking out on the city below. Erica relaxed, it had been a long week, and she would enjoy this moment of peace, and the solid state of mind the Federation was entering a golden age.

To be continued


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Edited by a person of many names Blood Raven AKA TimedRaven117. Go check out his story Mass Effect: X-Com Theory!

~[==|==]~

A Wayfaring Stranger No more?

We all know what a Quarian is. The beautiful reclusive individuals, trapped in an environment suit. Alien, yet familiar. Unlike the dastardly Coven, the Quarian people have shown interest in mutual cooperation and enlightenment. Ambitious men and women like Daro’Xen, Jeefa’Sina, and Captain Rael’Zorah. 

Since they have first come to our territory, and shown themselves hard working citizen material, the question has remained, can this fleet of 17 million souls join the Federation? Can both Terrans and Migrants set aside their meager differences and join together as one people in this brave new world? Many expressed skepticism, both in the Federation and beyond.

But let it be said, no good deed goes unrewarded. Today Sky Marshall Lee Sanchez authorized the transfer of a system to the Migrant Fleet for permanent use after the Eastern Council authorized the release of the dextro amino acid world. The Ironhall system in East Federal space as a safe harbor from the wilderness of the traverse. 

Only the fourth planet, Live World 0348, is suitable to inhabitation, but since the Quarians require sealed environments to live, many have found it irrelevant. It is hoped that they will accept this generous offering, but Ambassador Charlie Hazara has expressed doubt they will immediately accept the gift. Intelligence Officer Lilith Stevens, assistant to Ambassador Maghernus, had this to say, “The Admiralty Board, which acts as the executive branch of the Fleet, is dead set on retaking their home world. Their people have refrained from settling another world in the galaxy due to a misguided hope that one day they could retake their old territory, even eschewing the priority of finding a new world as a base of operations. I fear we will most likely be rebuffed in our gift, but the option for the world may entice some elements of their government to start dissenting, and lead to a political discourse that will likely last decades until the next generation who have been in Federal territory take command.” 

A sad path, but the Federal Council has also been warned by the Citadel Council to not allow territorial concessions to the Quarian fleet, argueing the territory would be better used by Turian interests. The Federation both wants to help the Quarians but also does not want to displease the Council, who have proven to be fruitful trading partners. 

Do you want to know more? Continue.

~[==|==]~

Terran Foreign Legion Recruitment Video: Asari

Looking for adventure? Eclipse too picky? Merc bands not your style? Looking for freedom and the discipline to use it? A story to tell your grand daughter when you reach Matroncy? Or perhaps you wish to go where no other Maiden has gone before? To meet a people even your mother has not?

Than give the Terran Foreign Legion a look! 

You see her? Her name’s Rosie the Riveter! See that massive cannon in her arms? That can be you! You too can be a hero to the Human people! You too can experience the excitement and adventure that she has!

We aren’t picky! Weak biotics? Small stature? Poor? None of that matters to us! 

Perhaps YOU will be the one on this poster in a year?

Warning: Acceptance into training is not guaranteed.   
A message from the Terran Federation Council to the people of the Asari Republics, brought to you by the Federation News Network, and Citadel News Network.

Do you want to know more? Exit.

~[==|==]~

Tesel Modri, survivor of the Tesla’Vir raid, former police officer, took a deep breath as she looked upon the recruiting station with hesirtation. She had flown all the way from what was left of her previous home to the Citadel, to have a chance at joining the is Foreign Legion.

Ever since the attack she had been left in a slump. All her friends, minus the few she had made during their last stand, were dead or gone. Her home a pile a rubble, her belongings looted or destroyed. There had been nothing left for her. 

She tried so hard to rebuild, it wasn’t the first time this had happened to her, several times as a maiden she had lost everything and almost ended up dead only to rebound back. And with the relay opening up to the Systems Alliance, she had indeed rebounded materially. But this was different, never in her life had she ever experienced such a battle, nor the chaos of orbital bombardment and invasion. 

Something had changed in her, she had grown more distant, food lost taste, she began to have nightmares, feelings of being watched. Her doctor had diagnosed her with depression resulting from emotional trauma.

The only happiness she had found in her life had been from media. Music, movies, books. Something to get away from the monotony and uncertainty of life. The more exotic the better. She had taken to reading and watching FedNet once they had installed a distribution station on Tesla’Vir. She had wanted to visit Zegema Beach, see the old architecture of Europe, and maybe meet her pen pal in the Federation.

Unfortunately entry into the Federation was strictly limited, immigration even more so. Only Citizens or official merchants could get free access past Shanxi. Joining the Legion was the fastest way to get citizenship, two years was nothing. 

She felt a gentle hand pat her between the shoulder blades, bringing her out of her stupor, “NEXT!” The woman at the desk was staring intently at her, with a frown creased across her lips. Apparently she had been trying to call her a few times now. Looking back to a Krogan, his face scarred and crest rusty red just stared passively at her. 

Looking back she approached the desk. “Good Afternoon ma’am, How may I help you?” The Human female had long golden hair, it was pulled back and braided into elegant strands, her skin was pallid, likely from spending one to many months in a stasis tube without real sunlight. The theme for all the clerks here was that they all had some battle wound, missing limbs, deep and painful looking facial scarring, obvious prosthetic limbs. This woman had none of these, no obvious scarring, no prosthetic limbs, just a solid, unblinking stare. Now that she thought about it, the only visible skin was her upper neck and face.

Feeling her own hand, the one that had been blown off in the final minutes of the fight on Tesla’Vir, the surgical scarring on her wrist had never properly healed and was still a deep hue of purple of imperfectly healed scars. “Yes, I’d like to enlist in the Legion.”

The woman nodded, “Registration? References? Previous family information? Skills?” She asked almost monotonously.

Lifting her omni-tool she transferred the information to the woman’s desk. She had been prepared, and had prepared accordingly. For the most part her record was spotless, served in a small merc band, travelled the galaxy, a wide variety of jobs, half a dozen college degrees, acclaimed police officer. The only issue she had was her current mental health.

The woman looked over the files slowly. “Anything to declare or inform me of that may not be in these official files? Failure to do so may result in termination.”

“Everything of note should be on my files.” Tesel replied honestly in monotony. 

Printing out a paper and stamping it, the woman spoke, “Understood, I see nothing out of the ordinary. Report at 0600 at this address. You’ll be thoroughly interviewed.” The woman replied equally as monotonous.

~[==|==]~  
Terran Foreign Legion Recruitment Video: Krogan

Itching for the glory days? When it meant something to be Krogan? When you weren’t just meat on the market for some punk who wants a bodyguard or a mercenary? Want to join an organization that actually cares? That actually believes anyone can be a good citizen?

We don’t discriminate! Join the Terran Federation Armed Forces today! 

Be a hero again in the eyes of the people! Fight the good fight, and know you’re making a lasting difference.

Meet interesting species and kill or befriend them! Use new and interesting weapons! Like our Peewee Nuke Launcher and Morita Squad Support Weapon! Find a place not just in our army, but in your squad! A Krantt to always watch your back!

Have a Quad! Join a Squad! 

REMEMBER: SERVICE! GUARANTEES! CITIZENSHIP!

Warning: Acceptance into training is not guaranteed.   
A message from the Terran Federation Council to the warrior sons and daughters of Tuchanka, brought to you by the Federation News Network, and Citadel News Network.

Do you want to know more? Exit.

~[==|==]~

Urdnot Wrex snorted dismissively at the asari who was before him. He’d seen that look before, normally in Maidens but sometimes in Matrons and Matriarchs. The look of a lost soul, someone who had their life shaken to the point that they would be in an emotional spiral for decades if not centuries. 

“Next!” A small human asked a this desk. From where he was standing Wrex could tell all of his limbs were either gone or prosthetic. Charming.

Lumbering up with deceptive softness he nodded, “I’m here to enlist.”

The man sized him up before nodding. Looking the Human in the eye he could also now see that his right side of his face was covered in skin grafts, and his eye replaced with a bulky cybernetic

“Shucks, I was hoping you’d be applying for tax man, or history teacher.” The human chuckled as he motioned for Wrex to send him his information.

Wrex actually smiled at that, “That's always an option if I get bored killing things.” Thinking about being a history teacher, that actually made Wrex smile.

“Although from the look of you, I’d say you’d have a lot of history to impart.” Wrex snorted.

“Maybe I do, but you certainly must have some stories.” 

The human smiled, “Lost my limbs to bugs, got surrounded by a pack, I was a light trooper you see, none of that fancy shmancy power suits. They just sliced or pulled off my limbs. woulda died if it weren’t for the work of a Psychometric and a squad of my mate gunning them down.”

Wrex nodded, “My father had stories of the rachni, saw a lot of good krogan die. Course the fool also wanted to continue the rebellions, so I’d say he was short a few dozen brain cells.” 

The human nodded, “We can’t cure the genophage son, at least, not yet.”

Wrex scoffed, “I don’t want the genophage cured. Or at least, I don’t want it cured yet. You’ve seen krogan before? Well on Tuchanka it’s ten times worse. The glorification of pointless fights, the unnecessary deaths for pointless feuds. If I had hope, I would have stayed on Tuchanka and helped my people. If I thought them deserving.”

“Do you know what would happen if the genophage was cured? We’d have a hundred year of breeding and then it's off to intergalactic war again. We haven’t progressed from the day we reduced ourselves to living in underground tombs after nuclear war. We were once a proud people, not just warriors, but scientists, artists. Now?” Wrex leaned on the desk, towering over the Terran who didn't even lean back, “We’re known for nothing but being big bad holo villains, and being a beefed up obstacle in some video game. I want to show the galaxy that we can be something more than just mercenaries or criminals.”

The man smiled, “Well then, I hope you truly mean that.” Printing out a paper and stamping it, he nodded, “Report at this address by 0600 tomorrow. Be prepared for the greatest day of your life.”

~[==|==]~

Undisclosed Location 2666GS/2338AD February 17 

Jack Harper sighed as he looked at another report about a massive eezo shipping error. There has been a rash of Element 0 accidents all over the South and East Federation. At first he assumed they were just shipping failures conducted by inexperienced shipping personnel dealing with a new and dangerous material. But further digging showed otherwise. There were radicals inside the Federation, people who had great interest in the creation of biotic soldiers for the Federation and damn the consequences. Of course he wasn't innocent either, having commissioned a batch of 150 children to be born in iron wombs and exposed to eezo to produce biotic specialists, but he wasn't being as aggressive as some of these fools. 

What made it worse was more than a few asteroids kicked their way by the bugs had turned out to have trace amounts of Eezo in them, mostly insignificant amounts, but enough that places like Buenos Aires and the Philippines had trouble with agriculture and air quality.

He had gotten to work with his assets to track down these extremists and rogue elements. A few religious groups who desired a it for a variety of reasons. They’d been dealt with harshly, to a man and woman reduced to life hard labor on some backwater. There was also a case of a planetary governor on some on no name moon exposing his colonial population unknown only to eezo, specifically in the maternity ward. Thousands died. Jack had found it fitting to allow his agent to lead a mob to lynch him. He had then sent a memorandum to every single government office with footage and evidence, with a distinct warning. While Minister Jenkins had not appreciated the unsubtle message, he did agree with the brutality of how it was presented, as it absolved the greater Federation from blame or fault by showing the man’s actions as entirely his own doing. The worst offenders however was a small cabal of Military Intelligence nuts who were systematically detonating air dispersal bombs of eezo and specifically injecting it unknowingly into mothers. A soon as it was discovered by Jack, he had stamped hard on it, resulting in secret tribunals that resulted in nearly a dozen MilInt agents being executed, and implicated over a hundred doctors across the Federation. 

The problem was that unlike psychics, where it was a matter of luck and pure genetic chance, biotics were easily replicable to anyone who could afford to waste that amount of eezo Could give it a try. This gave people stupid ideas, and Cerberus’ Internal Security Head had been busy reinforcing to everyone that illegally genetically modifying civilians and citizens was still illegal. He had even gone so far as to have an Agent approach the Sky Marshall Council and subtly remind them that all members of the government are still beholden to the people’s well being. 

Rubbing his forehead, he pondered the prophecies that were still coming in. The clairvoyants were anything but straightforward and clear with what they saw. And with prophecy and disrupting the future of things, it was like that old saying, “A person often meets his destiny on the road he took to avoid it.” And he had to wonder that maybe Cerberus would eventually be the reason for the Federation’s downfall. So many possibilities, so many things to change, so many innocuous details. However he was seeing brightness in these prophecies as well as darkness. Mostly things about the hero's journey. But as Jack lit another cigarette he scoffed. 

Musing onto other business on his desk, like what appeared to be the Black Cross taking over several pirate kingdoms in the Terminus. Oh sure it looked like business as usual to most people, but the Black Cross was not a Human mercenary band no matter how much the Citadel and the Sky Marshals wanted to believe so. The mutineers had used the System Alliance crossing point to Citadel space and then to the Traverse and finally the Terminus border about 4 years ago, and ever since then they’ve been forcing the merc bands, pirate gangs, and criminal kleptocracies out there to bend a knee and get the fuck out, or have their planet/moonbase/hideout nuked. It wasn’t worrying to anyone at the Citadel because while many people feared the Black Cross they never feared the Black Cross killing them for shits and giggles. Compared to many of the Terminus and even Citadel Mercenary Bands, who would just as soon sell you into slavery as ask for a toll. Another benefit to the Citadel’s eyes was the fact they were shutting down any and all slavery on the worlds they took, and convert the previously worthless agricultural slaves into trained soldiers and workers for the new state. Ironically enough the black Cross was basing itself off the Federation’s style of governance. Except with less freedoms and a hell of a lot more military hardware. 

And if no one did anything about them, they may one day be able to form an actual hindrance or attack the Federation proper. At least Ben was keeping a watch on them, he had even convinced some of the Cross members to join Cerberus and help it as an institute. With luck, if the Black cross proved to be a threat, crippling alpha strikes would result in them being unable to form a unified front to the Federation. Who knows if that would work, but anything would be better than a Black Cross crusade in Citadel space and beyond. He could already see Ilium falling to them as an ideological target.

Grumbling as he read a report on the border about rumors of Cyber Zombie sightings, he opened his left drawer and pulled out a whiskey bottle and a can of cola from the hidden fridge he had. Ever since Shanxi he had kept his eyes and ears open for any mechanical zombies stories, or sightings of other artefacts like the monolith on Palavan, thankfully they had been few and far between. Besides the odd ghost story from the north, and the occasional artefact digsite, all was quiet. Frankly Eva was on his ass to give her something else to look into, and he had half a mind to do so… the other half was remembering his last visit to Director General Desolas Arterius, after Cerberus was done with him. 

The Turian was no longer the bird who entered Cerberus. When Desolas first joined the project, beyond some creative political interpretations and worries, had been the model of mental stability. After barely a few years of studying the artefacts up close, the man became unstable, blackouts, hearing voices, sudden violent or unusual mood swings. Nothing in the Turian medical community knew what the hell was going on. It was only when other personnel who worked close with the artefacts also started to show the same signs that everyone, including Desolas, knew what was causing it.

The damnable pieces of rock and machinery were somehow driving their studiers insane, or mad, or something. Merely being in the same room or complex at times would result in symptoms arising. Desolas, and many of his researchers were too far gone, rapidly deteriorating, and getting suddenly religious and protective of the artefacts. To protect them, he did the only thing the doctors thought would help with things like this. He ordered a blanket Section 8 program, to wipe that shit from their minds and bodies. Whatever the temple and the artefacts had done to him was deep, thankfully his researchers were not nearly as far along the path as he was, but Desolas had been the first Turian to ever undergo a Section 8, and an emergency one at that. No one had thought to back up his personality and mental figure. Being the first of his species, and it being a rush job, had done its toll on Desolas. Carl Jenkins, who had himself undergone a Section 8 was a model of recovery. Desolas would be a model for the opposite.

With no memory and personality backups available, the psychics had done the best they could with what they had, and a full personality, memory, and emotional wipe was undertaken. A Section 8 was typically only undertaken for the most hopeless of emotional and mental trauma cases. Typically psykers were predominantly the primary demographic of such care, Psychometry was then the main suffers, who would often have sensory and emotional overload if they were not properly trained. But soldiers who had intense and irrecoverable PTSD were also subject to its tender mercies. To ensure the greatest chance of success for a Section 8, people at risk periodically received “back ups”, like how one would back up their computer, a Psychometric would imprint your personality and underlying mental faculties onto something, typically a Psychically conductive disk. This practice had been adopted after Coven mind reconfiguration as discovered was not just possible, but common. So to combat losing valuable personnel, the practice started. Desolas, not being a Federal employee officially, and no one thinking that maybe backing up his mind would be a good idea, never got such advantages, and so was now reduced to a low functioning autistic who suffered night terrors of the experience of being Sectioned 8, and whatever controlled him for a while.

Taking a swig of his whiskey and cola, as he looked to the painted portrait of Desolas as Director General, Jack sighed and rubbed his eyes. The Turian was still valuable, he had taken to giving lectures and teaching the next generation of scientists how to handle these artefacts. He wondered if that was to one day be his fate, his team and been a good distance from the monolith, but who knows if it was far enough and deep enough. Shivering at the thought, he had slept over the dig site for a good month after the incident. He was immeasurably glad he had sent CHAS units along with every disposal team before the side effects were learned. He had tasked a division under artefact collection, study, and disposal to find ways to protect the Human mind from such depravities of these artefacts. Who knew? Maybe one day some Terminus warlord with an army of zombies would start a war?

~[==|==]~

Attican Traverse, south of the Petolemaic Hegemony, Unnamed World 2666GS/2338AD february 18 

General James Projak took a long drag on the cigar, not as good as what was produced on Terra, but passible. He had been busy for his 8 years, gathering up the remnants of his command, putting down small rebellions on the worlds he acquired, and expanding his little empire secretly into the Traverse. But though he had been busy, there were no real threats to his power. Oh sure the Skinnies were starting to pull themselves together, having taken back some of the planets the bugs had taken from them, and where using the joke of a buffer state between them and the Federation as a rallying cry to try and form a real state, something along the lines of what the Federation had used, or maybe a model from the Citadel. All very fine and dandy, while they were busy statemaking he would be busy solidifying his power base. With all the big scary people out there, the Infamous traitor Projak was of little concern to the Hegemony or the Federation.

Which meant he had free rein out here on the fringes of the of Skinnie space. The only other empires out here he had to worry about was the Batarian Slave State, which he called them instead of their official title. This was mainly because he had found the Batarians to be a despicable species, both unusually cruel and unfortunately incompetent in many cases. As was the case when your entire species was stratified by caste, you tended to get generals and nobles who got a nasty case of Affluenza. Thinking that they didn’t have to listen to the funny looking “two eyed” species with goo guns. He had made several deals with the Batarian Merchant Houses only to be later screwed over by hidden clauses written in languages he couldn’t hope to even learn to speak. 

After the last of such unfaithful deals, he had gotten the last laugh when he had raided the Merchant’s private estate and taken him as a slave. He had then proceeded to do things that wouldn’t be uncommon in a typical Batarian Slave-Breaker office. After the Batarian was well and truly broken, emasculated, gelded, and blinded in three eyes, he sent him and the footage of the process back to his family. Projak did not enjoy the process, and neither did the Skinnie breakers. Terran and Skinnie culture found such gross actions logically despicable in this modern age. The fact the Batarians still practiced such barbaric practices made even the brutes sick. A convenience for Projak as well, since if the Batarians ever tried to raid his people, they knew what was to be their fate if they were captured and would fight all the harder.

Both in response to that, and in response to Projak taking a small border world operated mostly by slaves, the Batarian government had sent a small strike force to pacify him. He had sent the Slave State their commander minus everything below the neck. He had lasers they did not. 

But the Batarians weren’t the only threat in the Traverse, the Black Cross had set themselves up on a valuable trading lane between the Traverse and the Terminus, kicking out, killing, or assimilating the previous occupants. The Traverse was rapidly being divided into fewer spheres of influence, Projak and Mar’Rack’s Shadow Coalition, the Batarians, the Citadel, and the Black Cross. 

No doubt the traverse would be split between him and the Cross, and maybe the Batarians, but if he and the Cross had anything to say about it, the Batarians would be bottled into their territory and their Slave State deprived of the one commodity it needed to survive. When Colonel Mar'Rack emerged victorious from the Terminus, for Projak had no belief of otherwise, Mar’Rack would shatter Batarian influence in the region and replace it with Hegemonic rule. James had heard that his old friend was getting supplied with fresh troops and supplies from the Hegemony. If that was so, and Projak correctly deduced the Hegemony’s end goals, it was interesting that someone in that so-called government was able to think ahead into empire making and establishing future rule and influence in the galaxy.

Getting up, he walked over to the balcony of his mansion and looked out over the city that had been built on this no nothing world. Most of the indentured servents’ contracts had been up, most wanted off this rock, but he owned all the ships and the only way they had to get off planet was to swear loyalty to him. Of course, most would have rathered eaten shit, so those who didn’t take him up on the offer went into the hinterlands around the city and set up farms and cleared away the jungle. Those who had stayed and been integrated into Petolemaic society now had their own servants or employees by now, most in fact now managed the alien slaves and indentured species, using their alien charms to find mates and to keep order with promises of freedom. 

It was a cruel way to compel loyalty, but he was in the empire making business for the Hegemony proper, and to do that you needed workers, to get workers you needed a middle class, and if you wanted soldiers and raiders you needed to have willing or desperate people who needed to fight to survive. Which resulted in taking more slaves to be converted to the Skinnie culture and to become slaves and workers. And so the cycle continues. It wouldn’t last forever, but the colony was barely at a few hundred thousand inhabitants, with much of the Petolemaic population centers in the equatorial deserts. So he needed to get an industrial sized population as fast as possible, and culturally subjugating the slave they took and converting them proved efficient for the time being. 

~[==|==]~

Western Terran Federation, Surrelesh 2666GS/2338AD february 28 

General Juan “Johnny” Rico cursed in rapid succession at the actions of Sky Marshal Enolo Phid. It had become habit the last few years at his headquarters, so barely any of his staff batted an eye, “So she denied your request for more forces again?” 

Rico wanted to break something he looked so angry, “Worse, not only are we not getting reinforcements to help maintain our perimeter, she’s actually diverting our forces away for hunting the damn snake tails.”

“The Fourth acting up in the north again?” Ace, Rico’s trusty second, asked calmly. Ace had always been a good second, he knew many valuable skills that made him so good. Ace had tried commanding independently before, but in the cases where he got the opportunity, he found longer term command didn’t suit his skills. That wasn’t to say Ace was a bad tactician or strategist, he was equal to Rico in that front, Ace had simply lacked the decisive attitude for play by play decision making required of a permanent field commander, but had found that same indecisiveness and rigid planning structure an excellent administrative trait.

“God I Hope that's what they’re actually being used for instead of sitting their asses in a fleet command station. But you know as well as I this is a political move through and through, even if those soldiers do nothing but eat, train, and shit, the mere presence of them will give a feeling of safety to the people. Sky Marshal in Chief Meru is planning on retiring soon you know?” Ace nodded as they both took a seat. Ace produced a pair of flasks, tequila and fernet. Rico motioned for the fernet and Ace poured a small thimble into each cup of coffee. 

Ace took a sip of his warm coffee, before thinking back to his high school government class. Sky marshal’s were typically either a military appointment or a political one depending on if the Federation was at war or not. The stipulations being one had to have been in both the Mobile Infantry and Fleet. During peacetime, eligible candidates were put through three stages of confirmation and study, the first qualifying stage were military strategists who determined your military capability only, and one was to not have been pre informed of their evaluation until the next stage. Which was the Planetary Governors, who determined how the individual would play politics, as a Sky Marshalship was to work closely with their their commanders, politicians, and other considerations pertaining to the political. Finally retired Citizens of note like former Sky Marshals, who would determine mental and physical competency, as well as other necessary features and vetting processes. They typically served until retirement or the position was better suited to another person. Demotion from Sky Marshal carried no negative connotations during wartime, since it was primarily an administrative and strategic posting for an entire theater. If a particularly good tactical command was elevated to the position, it was a shame to waste their talents keeping them there after all. 

The Sky Marshal in Chief was special, as they commanded the entirety of Federal forces throughout the Galaxy. And so only a current or former Sky Marshal had the experience necessary to lead such a large force. Phid was making an early power play, “Jeeze Rico what are we going to do about this?” 

“I have no idea but if we don’t come up with some troopers soon we’ll end up like Admiral Yi, we barely have enough men for a brigade sized garrison on the world’s we were assigned. And Carmen’s informed me that with this latest set of cuts we can barely run resupply missions for our soldiers in the field.” Ace nearly sputtered into his coffee at that last bit of information. 

Ever since they had destroyed Klendathu and hunted down the last known pockets of resistance, the west had become a neglected sideshow. The start of the Ptolemaic war had stripped them of all their reserves, and while that war had been quick, not all those units had returned, most had ridden out the rest of their enlistment in the new “Systems Alliance”, retiring to land grants and cozy jobs all over the Federation. 

This combined with the slow decline of patriotic fervor, without an outright enemy to fight, SICON had no need for a large military being a drain on the economy. Everyone felt safe at home, and with the new colonial drive, those who would have typically been shunted over to the Mobile Infantry were instead moved to colonist training to become a worker on all the new territory that had opened up all around the Federation. On one hand, the movement from a semi conscripted army to an all Volunteer force again was good, they got a better class of soldiers who were invested with doing good here in the Infantry. He had enjoyed speaking with many of the new recruits and found them knowledgeable and personally invested for excellent service, one recruit who had caught his eye was a Marine, one Steven hackett, he had shown exceptional capability, and Rico had wished for a hundred more like him. But on the other hand, he was losing men faster than he was getting them. Large segments of his experienced cadre of divisions and NCOs were starting to muster out as well, now that they felt the danger had passed and their services weren't needed. This left him giving NCO positions to fresh blooded recruits who hadn’t seen a bug outside of anatomy class or war videos.

The only thing good about less troopers was they were phasing out the light armor troopers, which were always a semi emergency measure. Now that people were mustering out, previously occupied power suits were being freed up for use, and as more of the Light Infantry also phased out, their armor remained unused and were moved to storage depots. Now there wasn't a single Light Trooper in his section. Power suits were now back up to 50% of his armory. The other 50% a mix of Marauders, exosuits, that new kickass Power Armor, and old tanks and armored vehicles that were beginning to be brought back into the field after the Fourth picked a fight with the Russo-German colony of Neo Novogorsk. A colony that had been renowned for being a lot of farmland and gently rolling plains, hills and nothing worth talking about. The perfect screensaver vacation spot to try some traditional German Beer or Russian Vodka. Now it was renowned for their Tankery Championships, apparently a couple farmers with a dispute had decided to armor up their tractors and attach laser rangefinders to their makeshift armored vehicles. And from that spawned annual events not to dissimilar to what others in the Federation would consider rodeos. Where sports team and automotive clubs joined together to make Tankery teams to compete in the championship. Apparently someone was making a killing selling historical and modern day surplus tanks and parts. It was drawing in Tourists, and after the Tankery Teams teamed up and formed an impromptu militia and kicked the Fourth raiding party off their planet, it had made a lot of Federal military theorists sit up.

The slow degradation of the military was hitting the West harder than anywhere else, he heard the East was brimming with soldiers and with the formation of this new “Foreign Legion” the Federation didn’t have to invest soldiers outside their borders. Even if Sky Marshal Lee Sanchez was all for using this Legion elsewhere, the population wasn’t ready to have Xenos walking about their streets just yet. The South was heavily garrisoned, but it was spread out in case the Skinnies attacked the South or the System Alliance, and Riverfield would not allow anyone to be moved to another front without direct orders from the Sky Marshal in Chief herself. That little show trail 8 years back had ruined his career so he did what he did best, administrate the shit out of his theater, it was to the point that trying to replace Riverfield would be more costly than any political fallout his continued employment would cost. Admittedly Rico had to give the man credit, he had basically revolutionized the term “Cost cutting”. The northern front was at the moment a flurry of chaos, Coven, Fourth, and the occasional Batarian exploration ship “Accidently” entering Federal Territory.

Taking a gulp of his coffee after having a few minutes of silence, Rico deeply sighed, as if he had the weight of an entire world on him, “The bugs are coming Ace, the scouts we sent into their region have just reported. Top secret stuff, the bugs have stopped infighting, while it may take a few more years, they may start raiding us again, and who knows how long until they get a real fleet ready to strike in secret. If we aren’t ready for it, they will steamroll us from one end of the Federation to the other. Like the mongol horde all over again.”

Ace was quiet, “Juan if you're right… what are we going to do?”

Draining the last of his coffee Rico set it down carefully “I’m going to do what I do best… fight them with all I can get, attack every weakness I can find, and if I have to, I’ll beg, cheat, and steal every single resource necessary to do it if it comes down to it.” Rico looked as if he had more to say, looking pensive in his seat.

“Sir?” Ace asked confused

“Nothing Ace, nothing.” Sitting forward in his desk, he grabbed papers to begin writing, “Ace see if you can get me three courier ships, I need these letters delivered, top secret, no muss or fuss.” Rico explained. 

“Yes sir.” Ace replied, walking off to do his duty.

He wrote four letter that day, the first to Dizzy telling her to take the kids on vacation to the east, preferably all the way to see the Citadel where they be safe from the storm he felt was coming, the second headed north asking the sky marshal there for reinforcements he doubted he would get them, but he had to try and he’d try daily as well, the third headed south to T’Phai he may be retired now, but he had a lot of pull and could possibly rally a Skinnie army and fleet, the last letter went to him as well but only because he hoped he could count on him to know how to get it to the intended recipient. If this letter was found his career was over, but if it arrived at the intended recipient, the Federation may yet be saved, if what he offered them was enough to bring them home at least. 

~[==|==]~

Terran Federation, Earth, The Third Swiss Confederation,  
Geneva 2666GS/2338AD March 4

Sky Marshal Ronald Lee Sanchez walked down the walkway between the aisles of governors, heading for the reserved seats of the Sky Marshals on the stage. They were swearing in a new governor prime today. The last one had lost the midterm referendum he caused when he lied about corruption and favoritism among his local industry. 

Ronald was glad to see the bastard go, he had been defunding the military with the excuse of why risk trooper’s lives when they could use VIs, and had helped Hod-Kaivos, robotics company, produce a sizable army of VI manned drones and combat exoskeletons. That were to a unit cheap pieces of shit. They were not as good as organic soldiers and they certainly did not compete to CHAS units. Sure they had a small army of robots to fill the loses they were taking in retiring troopers, but they were not cleared for use outside of the Federation Core Worlds, and he wasn’t even using all the funding he had striped away from the military to buy them, most of it had gone to a loyal company head who worked with him for one project or another.

As soon as the depths of his corruption had been found out, the governors had voted for a referendum followed by his ass being fired and citzenship being striped away. No one outside the higher echelons of the government like the Governor and Sky Marshals knew all the details, SICON was doing a damn good job of plugging any leaks, but sooner or later the bastard would be found out and skinned alive by any self respecting human he met, so they had given him a week to go into exile in Citadel space never to return, he was lucky not to be hanged. Everyone would be informed of the change of government today with an explanation.

Ronald Sat down next to Riverfield and Phid, both of whom he was surprised we're still Sky Marshalls. Riverfield at least had the excuse of being largely useful in a logistical and economic sense. But Phid had been largely outmoded since the end of the war on her front, logically she would have been moved to a more personable position as a field general or training officer for other generals. Honestly he thought her talents were wasted as Sky Marshall.

The only Sky Marshal not here was Marshall Hathaway, he was home sick with a terribly bad flu, Sanchez had gone to see if Hana would like to join them but even the old fighter admitted he was too sick and the issue to minor. No doubt some of the governors were going to see this as a good time to push the old man out of office, he would probably walk his way over to the auditorium sick as a dog and hit them with his cane if they tried. 

Hathaway, that old war hound, had been the heart and soul of the traditional armed forces, his removal would almost seem like a great loss of culture and historical understanding of the world. So today Hathaway would be the “Safe member”, in case of attack or emergency, like a bombing, he would be safe at his residence, along with the most radical and the newest governors. Since there were no security threats on Earth, most people didn’t take it too seriously nowadays.

The assembly hall was starting to fill with governors from all over Earth and the core, some of them came from as far as the outer reaches of Federal space, but most were too busy or too far away to attend. Groaning as he sat down in his chair, Ronald knew he himself was in Hathaway's belt, almost a fossil, hell he’d likely be retiring himself soon. Get a nice cushy job at Shanxi or the Citadel even as a training commandant for the MI or Legion, be a public figure for the Federation. Meru came up, “Morning Sanchez, no Hathaway today I presume?” The portly woman was spotless in her uniform, as was expected of her, her white uniform contrasted with the tan uniforms of the Sky Marshalls, her black hair was pulled back into a curly ponytail.

Sanchez sighed, “Old dog was sick with the flu. So me and the other elected to have him as the safe member today.” Looking back and forth he whispered to her, “Me and Phid are planning a surprise get well soon party for him.”

Meru looked saddened, “Unfortunate, we were having some matters pertaining to the Western Fringes regarding the bugs today. Hathaway’s advice would have been appreciated.” Leaning in she asked mock conspiratorially, “What have you got planned?”

“Well Riverfield’s getting the cake, chocolate with jelly. I’ll be organizing the event, Phid was going to get the snack foods. Could you get some refreshments?”

Meru mulled it over for moment before asking, “Alcoholic or…?”

“Maybe a bottle of wine and sake, with some soda. You know what the man likes.” Hathaway had been a well known connoisseur of wine and spirits, and Meru had been his adjutant out of officer school for a decade before getting a command of her own. And she knew just what the man liked in regards to drinks. 

She smiled, “I’m sure I can procure something. So when’s the party?” 

Sanchez smiled, “Tonight at 2100, considering we aren't expecting this meeting to go over, I have a couple of my adjutants preparing the party at my residence.” 

Meru nodded, “Understood, I was going to visit him to appraise him personally of the situation after the meeting, want me to give him a ride?” 

Sanchez nodded, “Yes please. Me and the others were going to do the finishing touches afterwards, I’ll send you a text when its time.” They continued to talk about the last of the details for a few minutes before the rest of the Governors were seated. 

The recording crew from FedNet Archives began rolling and nodded, “Alright we are set and recording.” The command room at the top of the auditorium announced over the loudspeakers. 

Everyone grew quiet, the lights dimmed theatrically, and Sky Marshall Prime Tehat Meru ascended the steps to her raised podium below the Federal Eagle. The Eagle was a holdout from the United States and the Republic of Germany, after the formation of the Federation they had championed the Eagle as a symbol of strength and freedom. The other runner up, the Phoenix, was incorporated into the design, mainly the golden color, to represent the fires of battle and the resurgence of life after war, but also the indomitable determination of the Terran people and their allies. The four discernible feathers represented the four factions of the Disorder Wars, also known as the Third World War. The North American Alliance, the Anglo Saxon sphere of influence, including Europe, and the Russian Federation, with the Chinese Hegemony which controlled most of the surrounding Asian states. The Feathers also represented the four regions of space the Federation held, the North, South, East, and West. Arguments were that with the expansion of the Federation they would have to add longer and more feathers below the four to present the stellar provinces, with plans for the core regions, North, South, East, Western fringes, and another feather to represent holdings outside the Federation proper. The four segments of the flag outside the central circle holding the Eagle represented the four cardinal directions, and their respective regions. Many planets and nation states held the Eagle as part of their own flags as well, and it was seen as a symbol of Terran pride.

[Mitch Miller - When Johnny Comes Marching Home Again]

The Anthem began, no one was expected to stand for it, as it wasn't the official anthem, merely an instrumental rendition of the song, for the full song one was expected to stand and salute. However, no one spoke, and all attention was given to the Sky Marshall. As the song grew quiet to allow Tehat Meru to speak, she nodded and saluted. 

“Greetings my fellow Terrans, today we will be swearing in a new Governor prime, and as traditi…” She didn’t get to finish, as a gunshot rang out and she fell to the ground. 

To be continued


	3. Chapter 3

Edited by a person of many names Blood Raven AKA TimedRaven117. Go check out his story Mass Effect: X-Com Theory!

~[==|==]~

Terran Federation, Earth, Third Swiss Confederation, Geneva 2666GS/2338AD March 4th  
+0 Minutes IS (Invasion Start)

[Mitch Miller - When Johnny Comes Marching Home Again]

Ronald, despite being an old man, was not out of touch with his reflexes. Jumping to his feet there was near panic among the Governors as they had no idea what was going on. Nothing good of course but- an explosion rocked the seats of the Governors and no more confusion was had. 

They were under attack. As was tradition, many Governors and officers who were expected to participate in lawmaking held onto personal sidearms from their time in service, however, many never loaded their weapons or carried ammunition. Ronald did. Immediately the entire room erupted into yelling for security and gunfire. Ronald dived for cover as more gunshots rang out and the auto doors that were meant to lock down the building in case of attack activated, sealing them inside. 

Immediately he checked on Tehat only to whimper in despair. Her head had been impacted, and the hole in the back of her head was large enough for his fist. Ignoring the chaos all around him, he closed her eyes, only to be joined by his colleagues, who also had their pistols. Phid actually had a Citadel designed compact SMG, while Riverfield pulled out a heavy Skinnie pistol.

Looking from his cover he saw several of the guards that were posted to protect them shooting their service weapons into the crowd, who were also shooting back as best they could, a brave Governor, Sanchez guessed Governor Yosemite from Rosa colony, tackled one of them, the old marine was still in his prime, and his years of working in the mines of Rosa made the man a fearsome wrestler. Yosemite was looking to be about to wrestle the rifle away from the trooper before a massive claw shot out of the guards gut and skewered him. Yosemite’s distinctive look of shock and anger was forever burned into the three Sky Marshall’s minds. The being got up, shifting from a human form to something that looked more like a bug then human, and screeched out, deafening the clamber of sound, and actually ending the fighting for a bare second. 

One of the stage crew manning the spotlights moved it over and Sanchez knew for sure a camera was trained on the being as well.

“FOR KLENDATHU!” 

Terran Federation, Earth, Repulic of Scotland, Aberdeen, 2666GS/2338AD March 4th  
+1 Minute IS

Governor of Shanxi Alexander Williams looked at the screen showing the main hall of the Federal council in horror, he had arrived yesterday to attend the swearing, he was expecting to be in the very chamber that was being attacked, but as was tradition and necessity, he was one of the few who would remain in the deep underground bunker while almost the entirety of the Federal Governor Council and Sky Marshals were in Geneva.

“Get a line to Fednet, I don’t care how but end the transmission now.” Williams finally said, deathly quiet.

The junior officer who had been given the duty of watching over his group looked over, “What?” 

Williams snapped over, “I said: Get on the line to FedNet, and tell them to end that fucking stream!” He turned to the two other Governors in the room when the lieutenant nodded and headed over to the phone, Governor Felix of Hesperus was sitting in his seat, shock preying upon him by the looks of it, and Governor Ignacio of Saint Francis was no better, his eyes locked on the screen, both needed to be shook out of it, “You two can do the hell you want, I’m going to rally the brass above us and get the fucking garrisons moving!”

Looking at the screen he could see Sky Marshall Riverfield fire his Skinnie rocket pistol into the newly revealed bug, killing it instantly. Yosemite, despite being disemboweled, picked up the now newly freed rifle and fired. It was chaos in that chamber as the human guards started to realize what was happening after a few fatal seconds and fire back.

The lieutenant skidded into the room, holding a satchel pouch with a powerful wireless phone, “Sir, I can’t get through to FedNet on the landline, I managed to get through to the nearby station and they say someone cut the land lines around Switzerland! We’re getting on the military radio net to cut the broadcast.” 

“Damnna-” Williams began only for the bright white lights to go out suddenly, and suddenly replaced with dark red emergency lighting and the sound of emergency klaxons going off across the base, and now across the planet. William reached for his sidearm, and his colleagues also opened up the weapons locker in the room and pulled out Reaper pistols. The lieutenant produced his own sidearm after a moment's hesitation. The group waited a good five minutes in the dark red lighting, as the Lieutenant tried to get someone who knew what was happening on the phone. The base alarms quieted, and was replaced with a man on the speakers, “Alert, level 5 emergency. Alert, level 5 emergency, large scale terror attacks at infrastructure and government offices. All citizens are to report to their nearest muster station immediately.”

William moved to the video screen and over rode the emergency shutdown to access the external cameras. What he saw made him look on in shock, he could just barely see smoke rising from the nearby nuclear power plant. “This isn’t good, attack of vital infrastructure, assaulting our governing body and military leaders, infiltration.” So many thoughts went through Williams brain, he may have only commanded a single army group, and never extended his command past one planet, but he was still a graduate of military academy and he knew of the long reaching effects this would have on the planet and the Federation at large, “They're planning an alpha strike! A decapitating blow! They're likely already on their way to attack us as I speak! Oh god, oh god, oh god!” With the Sky Marshals busy fighting for their lives only Sky Marshall Hathaway could rally the defense and last reports said he was home sick. 

“An invasion of earth? That's preposterous!” Governor Ignacio replied in disbelief.

“And what is this situation? Like it or not we’re under the initial stages of assault, the targeting of vital infrastructure and vulnerable political and military leaders is the first step!” Williams pointed out.

“But they’d have to get past General Rico and his Wall….. Oh fuck, Phid has been progressively stripping them of resources...” Ignacio replied, understanding dawning on him and his peers.

“Is it possible for them to sneak a fleet past our forces?” Felix asked terror etched on his face and that of his comrades. 

Williams face drained of blood as he turned to the Lieutenant, then took up the base speakers, “All forces, all forces! This is not a drill, prepare for invasion procedure Black, I repeat, prepare for invasion procedure black, bug forces have infiltrated earth and have begun first stages of an alpha strike, base commanders, please report to meeting rooms, get a hold of Hathaway and inform him of what’s going on, and get the fleet into defensive stance now goddamnit!”

~[==|==]~

Terran Federation, Earth, Third Republic of Brazil, Brasília 2666GS/2338AD March 4th  
+42 Minutes IS

Retired General Frederico Pires sat in his rocking chair on his porch, the sun beginning to set across the city. Smoking his pipe, he was proof reading his biography of one of the heroes of Aberdeen, a native Brazilian who left her corrupt motherland an idealist, and returned as a representative of the Federation. He had read many biographies and recorded histories of her, and he felt it was his time to add to her honor. The hell of the Disorder had shaped the world, and the demons of that brought that hell were the politicians, and men who never saw their brothers and sisters die beside them in an endless war, by that metric the bugs, coven, and Skinnies were not bad. He had met Skinnie soldiers whose pure honor outshone even the bravest Terran, he had seen Coven war mistresses bow in admittance of guilt, and he had been honored to have returned the humble gesture. He had even participated in the interrogation of a brainbug, whose loyalty to his queen and species was a paragon of the greatest heroes. 

As the Hero of Brasilia said, the monster who could hide behind the veneer of “the good of the state”, behind false promises and lies, to be corrupted by material things, to have never truly sacrificed for the greater good. That was the greatest threat to civilized society. It was of his opinion that lying was the worst sin a man could commit, lying to another or oneself, it didn’t matter. She had also seen that lying was the ultimate sin, for if one in power lied, they sloughed off the responsibility of their post, and abused their underlings, their trusted subordinates as human shields, blaming them for their own failings, those were the monsters, leeches upon society, that should be feared beyond all else.

He swiped to the next page on his tablet, careful not to allow his impressive beard to touch the screen, his peace was disturbed when his ears detected a far off sound… It sounded like an alarm, one of those old world war two relic air raid sirens, he looked up, and then the sound got louder, and was joined by another, then another, his eyes widened in fear when suddenly the entire city’s alarm system was going off. His wife Sandra ran out of the house, the neighbors all around them were at windows or outside their homes as well. Shakily, Frederico stood up.

“Emergency code black. Emergency code black. This is not a drill, repeat, this is not a drill, all civilians report to the nearest military shelter, all citizens, report immediately to the nearest mustering point immediately. We are under attack, I repeat, we are under attack.” Frederico was in shock. Never before had a code black been announced, a code black meant that Earth itself was under threat of invasion, or in the midst of a sneak attack. 

A young man on a motorcycle and half dressed in a garrison uniform, came screeching to a stop before Fredrico’s house, nearly tipping over his bike in the haste to get to him. Something was wrong, this had to be a dream, he moved quickly down the stairs, glad the limp from his tour on Pluto during the First Bug War was not too noticeable. “Trooper, why are you here? I’m too old to fight-.” He started before he was unceremoniously cut off.

“Sir! General, bugs attacked Geneva, Governor Leal is believed dead, he named you as the emergency Governor if he were to ever die unexpectedly.” The man looked desperate and out of breath, “I have orders to conscript you and take you to the cities command bunker immediately.”

“Dear god.” Frederico was shocked at first, but then pained, Oscar was a good friend, and had saved his life on Pluto more times then he could count. Turning to Sandra, the look in his eyes said it all, but he had to voice it anyways, hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, “My dear, my darling crimson rose. I’m afraid my retirement has been cut short.” 

She looked mad and sad at the same time, but she nodded, she had known Oscar well, having Oscar and his girlfriend over for dinner just last week, she knew of the debts both had owed to one another, “My dear, I’ll need my uniform and sidearm, my cane as well, and… My draft and favored book, please.” She nodded, and they embraced and kissed for a moment before she rushed off. 

Turning back to the trooper, after taking a deep calming breath, he asked, “Trooper what do you know? In detail this time.”

“Sir! Bugs somehow snuck in a new breed of infiltrator on Earth. I’m not sure, but Governor Williams of Shanxi Colony, in Aberdeen, has initiated a code black, the bugs started by attacking the meeting of the Governors and Sky Marshals a half hour ago on live TV. I’ve also gotten reports that they have struck infrastructure worldwide, and have actually managed to destroy the inter system comm hub on Luna. The fleet’s in disarray at the moment, and Williams has been doing his damndest to try and organize the situation.”

“No doubt there is already an attack on the border. Williams. Williams, Williams, Williams.” Rubbing his face with his palm, Frederico thought, “I, yes, he’s that general who staved off that Skinnie invasion on Shanxi nearly a decade ago. Good man, he’s probably connected the dots too.” Frederico mumbled, but now was not the time for determining the greater strategic situation, he had to rally the defense of Brazil and work with the other nations of the Americas, then worry about the greater situation.

“Sir?” The trooper asked. 

“Never mind my ramblings at the moment, once I have my things we’ll take my car. I want those emergency shelters occupied and guarded heavily by the time midnight rolls around, and we need to start conscription of all able bodied civilians ASAP.”

“Sir do you really think it will come to that?”

“In the second World War, when Japan attacked the Americans, they tried to declare war 30 minutes before the attack, and though codebreakers had broken their code and knew what was happening a few hours before the declaration, did the Americans say, ‘well we knew we were at war so that attack was fair’? Our people will be angry and eager to fight to defend their homes, but we have to make sure they don’t ask too many questions, like if the bugs were supposedly beaten in our lifetime why are we getting invaded? Don’t forget we also obliterated Klendathu, the supposed Bug homeworld, I don’t think the bugs will be interested in playing fair with civilian populations.”

~[==|==]~

Citadel Space, Citadel 2666GS/2338AD March 4th  
+5 Hours IS

Tomas Maghernus discreetly sighed as he sat in one of the many council rooms for such negotiations. The Batarians had become an ever more loathsome problem over the decade. Their continued insistence on land claims they couldn’t hope to colonize for decades, or even an outright century if only to prevent prime real estate for Human commercial expansion. And since the Federation was not a member of the Council, they technically negotiated at a lesser position in the table, one the Batarian diplomat made sure to take full advantage of. 

In the first year the Batarians had used this position in negotiations to claim territory as a military and economic exclusion zone. That diplomat had won a great victory for his government’s goals. Maghernus had fully admitted this and had even congratulated the former Merchant’s success in the courtroom, and had him over for dinner on numerous occasions to talk about both political and social matters. The Indelible tango of cultural trading had touched both of them. And Maghernus and the same diplomat had expressed utmost surprise to find that the Hegemony were imperilling those hard won claims by allowing unfavorable elements free access between the exclusion zone corridor and straight to the star isthmus they shared, allowing and in fact paying third party raiders to strike Terran colonies in the Terran-Alliance-Petolemaic sector of space.

Of course the diplomat, of the Mountain Caste, Khassisa Di’Balentia Sextunifia the Protector, tried to deny such accusations. But that was where Maghernus had the high ground so to speak. As the STG were the ones who had delivered evidence as a third party, publicly exposing hundred of Batarian ship captains and station commanders of corruption and dealing in slavery outside of agreed upon zones in the Hegemony. 

The straightup evidence had shocked the diplomat and Maghernus had allowed a recess for a day to go over the information. And in that time he got a new toy. Smiling, it was a pair of spectacles, however above where the lenses went was a pair of robotic flat eyes. Batarian haggling and negotiations were legendary, and even he had trouble with his psionically enhanced mind. This pair of spectacles with eyes helped with negotiations, as it expertly mimicked eye and facial movements of the wearer to translate to batarian, with the lenses actually being partly a video screen overlaid on the eyes to not show weakness.

Was it cheating? Maybe, but it certainly helped level the playing field when the two had met for dinner last night to discuss in a more candid and relaxed environment. The look of surprise and unease he had given by Khassisa had been enjoyable considering the difficulty that Maghernus had before. Today they had seen fit to start the negotiations on the new found evidence.

So far it had been going well, but it was getting really late, they had started in mid afternoon, and they were still going through the initial evidence. Rubbing his face and eyes in exhaustion, Maghernus would have liked to pop a stimulant like a caffeine pill but he would get jittery having a third one. He just was not as young as he used to be. Not to say he was old, far from it, he was nearing the stage of his life where he finished physically growing, the life extending treatments and gene therapy would kick in, being near his early forties, the standard treatments would extend his forties and fifties by twenty to forty years depending on his life factors. 

Khassisa was in the midst of objecting to a point of evidence about a corvette captain, citing how it was out of the realms of possibility the corvette captain would act so villainous, and that the STG must be mistaking the individual for someone else. It was then that an armed security detail of Terrans in power suits barged into the meeting chamber and his head assistant Patrovsky marched up to him, she whispered in his ear, and judging from the looks on everyone else's face, his face must have gone completely white and took on a horrible visage. 

Swallowing hard, he spoke, “I’m sorry representatives, officers, and ambassadors. It appears a crisis has occurred that requires my immediate attention…. It appears the Federation has come under attack by bug forces. I must ask this session is adjourned for the time being.” Maghernus didn’t even wait to be dismissed as he grabbed his few things and proceeded to be escorted out as he left the room and headed toward the embassy compound in the wards, his office in the Presidium didn’t have the Quantum Entanglement Communicator linked to Earth, “Sergeant, how long has the situation lasted, and who knows?”

“All reports we’ve received are sketchy at best, we’re not a high priority for information. But from what we can tell the attack was launched a few hours ago, and it was only now that they remember we had the QEC. Governor Williams has taken nominal command, and the report he has sent is worrisome. So far, only you and the roomful of people officially know what’s going on. For Citadel intelligence services, I’d say the STG and Palavan Military Intelligence at least knows something is happening.” 

Maghernus said a quiet thanks to the Council for loaning them the QEC, after the initial communications with the Guilder Wave proved to be interminably slow, the Asari had suggested its use for instant communication, it had proven invaluable for that, hell, Maghernus and his staff were probably the most well informed people outside of Earth, “I want a meeting with the Council, and the Turian Ambassador immediately. Send word to Admiral Chavez and General Simpson I want their forces mustered and ready to go by morning.”

~[==|==]~

Eastern Terran Federation, Shanxi, LEGION Barracks 2666GS/2338AD March 5th  
+12 Hours IS

Relaxing in his padded chair, Kal’Reegar, or as he discovered his new nickname was, “Kally” sat at the desk as the watchman for his barracks. It was nearly midnight here on Shanxi, overall he had found his training in the Legion to be not only excruciatingly difficult, but surprisingly fair for all involved. As a Quarian he was expected to do the very best he could, he fell? Get his ass back up and catch up.

It was refreshing, he had heard stories of the Terran’s respect for his people, and he felt he was getting the same treatment as anyone else. As Staff Sergeant P’Hai explained, “You’re all equally worthless until I’m done with you!”

You just don’t get that kind of equality anywhere else. 

Relaxing back in the chair, his shift lasted an hour, so plenty of free time to do something. Pulling up a book, he was learning to read Basic Terran without the aide of a translator. He had gotten a couple dozen books from the base library, (Who used paper anymore?) which were suggested to him by P’Hai himself. 

Dr. Seuss “Green Eggs and Ham.” While he found the book to be drawn in a fever dream like environment, he had to admit it was a good start to learning english. And secretly inside, he was still a child at heart, he was barely 17 after all! He wasn’t even old enough to drink in the Federation.

As he began to read, the door to the barracks swung open, with a desperate looking Terran in a base uniform for signals, “You! Recruit, wake your fucking barracks up and muster out on the parade field immediately! This is not a drill!”

Standing up immediately, He turned to his bunk and pushed his partner awake.

Recruit Saren Arterius sat up from bed like a vampire smelling fresh blood, “Oh, is it my shift already?” He asked tiredly, before the panicked look on Reegar’s face shook him out of it.

“Wake everyone and get them in formation now. Something’s happening!” Kal’Reegar Explained before sprinting to their platoon a officer’s room to wake P’Hai and Lieutenant Howin. Saren did the Turian equivalent of a yawn and then got off his bed nonchalantly, grabbing the green colored armor the legion issued him, quietly walked to the center of the barracks, surrounded by four dozen filled bunks. 

“Eh hem.” He cleared his throat, taking in a deep breath, “WAKE THE FUCK UP YOU LAZY BASTARDS!” He’d wanted to say that for a long time, Immediately the lightest sleepers had woken, and then Saren started squawking in alarm, to some ears it sounded like a high pitched whine, to others it sounded as loud as a klaxon going off. But it succeeded in getting them up and waking everyone else up. “Form up in formation right now, we seem to have an emergency on our hands!”

Everyone got in formation, namely they stood at attention before their line of bunks and waited while Saren took out his omni tool and began to do attendance. Some people were mumbling but Saren put an end to that with a well placed, ”Quiet!” 

As he got halfway done, Staff Sergeant P’Hai and Legionnaire Lieutenant Joi Howin marched out of their shared room, “Alright everyone we need to get on the parade field in full battledress on the double-” The sound of the base alarms going off startled some of them as Jo gritted his teeth, “Make that on the triple recruits. Move your asses! Urdnot, Arterius, Her’Ah, Modri, front and center.”

Seran nodded and proceeded to get inline before his commanding officers. Kal however went to their shared bunk and proceeded to don his combat armor and prep Saren’s kit at the same time. It was considered extremely bad form to leave your fireteam member. So bad in fact that one person almost got drummed out when they accidently left their partner during exercises.

Howin stood before them, “Alright listen up recruits, I called you up because you’re the top performers in my platoon, So because of that, you all are informally promoted to sergeant until this crisis passes. This is a field brevet, but also know that your partners are also hereby promoted to corporal until further notice as well. Now, Trooper Modri, can you tell me what this alarm is for?”

Modri turned her head in a lackadaisical motion, before responding equally as uncaring, “A code black alarm, with several beats interposed in morse code about bug infiltration and possible invasion.”

Howin only looked impressed for a bare second before nodding with a smile, “That’s right recruit! A code black is the most serious of alarms, and is only reserved for one thing, a direct attack on Earth, if a direct attack on Earth is being perpetuated I don’t need to explain what else needs to go wrong for that to even be in the realm of possibility. Now form up your squads, and make sure they’re in good order, by the time I get out there I want you all to be in formation and silent as stone!” 

The newly minted Sergeant all saluted before sprint gg off to their new found duties, namely lighting a fire under the asses of their comrades,“Go go go go go!”

“Get that armor on !” Hoseda

“Move it Welp! The war isn’t going to wait for your little Vol ass!”

“Reegar, I’ll get to my shit, make sure the squads in position!”

“How many times do I have to tell you, ya casteless fool! Chest plate first, then the greeves!”

They were streaming out of their barracks, in full combat uniform, already all the lights in the compound were on, the armory in the center of the base near the PT and parade field was getting mobbed by recruits. Reegar sniffed in disdain at the sight. Walking up to the mobbed people he screamed, “Hey! Bosh’tets! Are you schoolchildren or recruits of the Legion?!” He pulled a few Turians free, “Get these soldiers in order cocks! We can’t have a mob happening here!”

One of the Turians he pulled aside, one of his few close friends, nodded in agreement, “You heard little Kally! Are you soldiers or chicks? Get in fucking lines, order cocks, order!” Turian teel was being inserted into the recruits, either through cuffs to the head or shouts. 

Looking behind him, Kal saw the streams and hordes of recruits racing out of their bunkhouses, nearly 3,000 aliens of all different races, creeds, and body types. Pointing out the fact, his friend agreed, and opening up the standard’s vault, lit up the light and started shouting for squads to grab their standard and to form neat lines in anticipation for their weapons. Reegar grabbed his own and got in line for his squad, raising the standard high so his squadmates could see him on their huds. 

The sudden order to the previous chaos at the armory efficiently made use of their time, Their base alarms had died, but that didn’t mean other alarms didn’t, for example the city’s raid alarm was going full tilt.

Despite the organization, it took nearly five minutes for everyone to get their gun and ammo. But they Immediately formed up into line formation on the parade field as they did so, squads marching into the field in full uniform and weapons. 

Their commanding officer, Tribune Jake Silva, survivor of Klendathu, five time champion of the Citadel Laser Arena, and probably the most demanding yet fair officer any of them had seen. 

He had a bottle of Earth Whiskey in one hand, and a thick ream of papers in the other, standing at the raised stage and podium he poured out a shot from the bottle, “Well ladies and gentlemen, today appears to be the worst day for the fucking Federation in nearly 30 years. Care to guess why? Because while we were all getting sleeping the bugs attacked Earth herself and killed most of the government, if not all of the Sky Marshals.” 

There was shocked silence, “Yeah no fucking kidding., And it gets better, we have not heard a single communication with General Rico in the West since this whole debacle, all communication with the western fringe and western core has been lost, we can only presume that all the planets in the region has fallen or are in the midst of holding actions in hopes of reinforcements.” 

He looked over them all, silence still reigned, they were too disciplined to break out into an incoherent mess, “Now some of you might know I took this command because I wanted an easy training assignment to pay my bills, and to help put the daughter I only learned existed a few years ago through technical school. I never wanted an actual command of so many people, as many of your trainers were former comrades in arms from Klendathu, I have no doubt that my fears have spread.” He took a deep steadying breath.

“I still don’t want to command. Not because you’re aliens, but because of personal fears of my own. I’m afraid that I will fail you, I will fail some of the bravest, dedicated, desperate and or craziest sons of bitches I ever did see. I don’t want to see your all fall.” 

Silence continued before Howin yelled out, “You bastard! I’d go to hell and back for you! And fuck the consequences!” 

Another beat and then another friend yelled out, “For the Purple Lion! Fought the best survived the rest!”

Reegar yelled out, “The unit is dependent on all parts! Its reliant on trust and universal competency! Fuck your fears sir! I’d die for you! OOORAH!”

Saren backed him up, “OOHRAH! Ave victoria! Let the Legion prove its might to the galaxy!”

“OOHRAH, OOHRAH, OOHRAH!” Everyone started to chant. And they could see Silva hang his head for a moment, before rubbing his nose.

When he lifted it again, that smile, that devilish smile that either said he’d run them until they all collapsed with exhaustion, or he had made a prank against one of the neighboring regiments that would be the talk of the town, “Aww shucks you all.” He stood more straight now, “If you have such confidence in me, it’d be hypocritical to leave you, to leave my team behind… To turn my back on fellow Terrans. I swear to you, I’ll lead you to victory, we’ll go to earth I’ll get my daughter and I’ll bring the billions of sons and daughters of the besieged worlds to safety, we’ll buy the time necessary for my… OUR gravely wounded government to return, stronger than ever. Our names, the name of our Legion, will be etched to the annuls of not just Human, but TERRAN history, as those who wouldn’t lay idle while we were assaulted so.” 

He held up the papers in his hand, “This is a full commission and permission to enter central for this command, you APES are coming with me, even if I have to pull every string I have, and we're going to smash any bug between here and Earth, and once earths safe, we're going to keep going, smashing ever damn bug force until not a single one remains in Terran space. And then, THEN we’ll take the fight back to them! VICTORUS AU MORTIS!” He grabbed his shot of whisky downed it, “If anyone has a problem, and I sincerely doubt that, then now’s the time to throw in the towel, you won’t be punished for it or anything, you’ll get a one way trip back to your place of origin. I know quite a few of you didn’t sign on to fight, but if the bugs beat us, which I have no information to the opposite, do you really think they're going to stop at the borders of the Citadel? No they’re mindless abominations, who want nothing more than to wipe my people out, I know of nothing stopping them from going to steamroll in your space and beyond. If we fail, how long until Palaven, Sur’Kesh, Karshan, or perhaps even the Citadel itself will be threatened?” Tribune Jake Silva raised the bottle of whiskey, “Your basic training is over, time for the lessons of war!”

~[==|==]~

Southern Terran Federation, Tophet, 2666GS/2338AD March 11th  
+7 Days IS

Retired Federal Colonel, Governor T'Phai, opened his mail wondered what Rico was writing him for, Rico tended to never write unless he had bad news, because bad news meant he was busy, if he had good news he would come with the family and visit for a weekend or so and see how Tophet was doing after all the years of rebuilding. 

The fact it was a paper message meant it was all the more serious. Slicing the note open, he gave it a quick read, he wanted a Skinnie army unit in his sector, nothing new really, the Federation was taking more troops from him, so getting an independent force out there they could not take from him could help, and he wanted a note forwarded to Skinnie space if something were to happen in the West. That part was bit of a problem, oh sure he could get the note to where he wanted it, but reading who the note was to go to, if Military Intelligence ever found out what he was up to, there’d be a shit storm unlike anything seen since the Bug War. 

T’Phai put the letter aside, locking it in his personal study in case something happened, he would pretend the note was never written until the time of its use was necessary. Getting up he stretched his back and moved to look out a window. The buildings of Tophet were now made more like Terran architecture, with glass and steel, most of the old style Skinnie Steel and stone homes were either destroyed or in select areas remote enough to have not been a battlefield in the months long ground war with the bugs and the Terran. 

But some things remained the same, the “City” was just a small town compared to what he saw in the Federation, and his palace, the building he was in, remained the same as when the Roughnecks first found it. Terrans loved to centralise, their industry, their homes, their governments, everything. It may have something to do with how crowded their homeworld was, that they were used to being so close to each other, and so when they finally got off world, they were stuffed in crowded bio-domes until they could develop FTL and find worlds suitable for mass inhabitation, but still they insisted upon living close to one another. 

Petolemaics on the other hand had lots of small towns spread out across their planets, their hardy nature combined with their nomadic and clannish nature. Though some of the more central Petolemaic planets broke that convention from lack of space due to the long time they had inhabited some worlds. He had kept the bugs fighting as long as he had when they attacked because of the decentralized nature of his people, it gave them the ability to pack up and move on when the bugs came. However this same decentralized nature, as he learned, was also his downfall. His tactics and strategies of guerrilla warfare proved exceptional by human standards, but as he learned when in Human space, industry, not tactics or strategies, wins wars. It wouldn't have mattered if he had a million soldiers, or ten. His defeat was as guaranteed as the death of the stars.

It was with sadness that his people's decentralized nature meant any long war with the Terran, or Citadel, or Bug, was destined to failure. Certainly they could make any occupation force bleed to death, but as the Terran-Petolemaic War showed, it had been a crushing defeat for the Petolemaic Warhawks, their lack of ability to adapt technologically in the face of pound for pound better Terran warships, was exacerbated by their insufficient shipbuilding, officer training, and technology sharing practices. Any losses they received couldn’t be replaced fast enough, as each lost battle they faced meant less and less clans would swear their allegiance to them, or would flat out desert before battles. Of course luck came into play, but the few what if battles like Cassandra and Shanxi would have only extended the war by a few years at most before they were totally crushed.

Sighing, T’Phai looked down at the units training in the nearby barracks, he had instituted a new type of society for war making for the people of Tophet, it was all industrialised, their soldier training, officer training, weapon’s production, ship construction. All of it was now done the Terran Industrial way. Tophet wouldn’t fall, not again, not in his lifetime. Before, each and every weapon a Petolemaic had was a work of art, hand crafted by the clan for their son to go to battle. That went away, the more practical and efficient Morita rifle line was instead becoming standard issue, he had made a deal with Morita, and they got to exclusively supply him and test his soldier with Petolemaic designed weapons. Of course Tophet was still a part of the Federation, so his people were free to join the military, and in order to get a nice job here on Tophet as a soldier, Citizenship was required. 

Also because of that, his world was open to human homesteaders, due to its inhospitable nature few humans decided to emigrate to Tophet, but more than a few decided to come for a variety of reasons, and he made a point of knowing all of them and greeting them when they arrived.

The sound of drill and marching could be heard even from his study. He smiled in pride, he should go see his son, when he finally shipped out, he may not have a chance to see him until his papers were up. As he thought about this, an aid nearly broke down the door as he rushed in. “My governor, a thousand pardons, news just came over the Guilderwave, the bug have attacked Earth itself, and communications all across the Federation are being sabotaged, the only one that we can still contact is the Cassandra relay. 

“What?!” T’Phai looked at the aid like this was some kinda bad joke, then the alarms all across the city, and he imagined the world, were starting up. He knew it even from his long retired mind, code black, Earth attacked. “Hell.” He used the Terran curse he picked up with some hatred, “Get the message out, spread the word to the Alliance, and the Hegemony, find out who’s taken command in this region, until then I’ll be assuming command of the forces here in the south and we are to organize ourselves and send a force to relieve our neighbors and reinforce Cassandra.”

“Yes my governor!” 

“And get me a courier ship, I have a message to send immediately, get me the fastest ship you can! And get me my son, I need him to do a special mission for me.” His aide bowed deeply before sprinting away.

T’Phai needed to draw up his plans, organize his forces. His years spent preparing would result in this planet being a bulwark, the small fleet yards above his home were strategically unimportant but would be invaluable for Federation ships needing supply and repair, especially after this devastating surprise attack. T’Phai moved over to his desk and unlocked the small chest that held personal and classified documents. Sometimes T’Phai wished Rico was wrong, but the years of fighting the bug and his blood hatred for the loss of his hometown and mother had resulted in a man who knew how to fight bugs. Picking up the note he muttered, “I just hope you're as right about the Black Cross as you are about the Bug.” He walked over to phone and made call to contact he had who could forward the note, and who would be escorting it to its destination.

~[==|==]~

Western Terran Federation, Surrelesh, 2666GS/2338AD March 3rd  
-10 Hours IS

“Sir we lost contact with Ophion Station and the North.” An Ensign reported from her station.

“And there goes our last connection to the Federation.” Rico muttered from his command platform, as he observed the chaos around him. Communications had started going down early this morning, the third of March, even with the advances they made in the years since, it took weeks to send messages from here to Earth, he doubted anyone anywhere past the western fringe would realize anything was wrong out here until the afternoon of the fourth. Which was a hell of a thing to happen when the bugs were coming at them with everything they got. 

He was getting reports from Rousha about fleets of bug bio ships and ships of a second unknown race attacking the defense station around the mass relay out there, other reports from the remnants of Big K of unknown ships attacking Fleet Battlestation Ticonderoga, he doubted they would take the station, but before they lost contact he ordered all of them to fall back to Surrelesh with the fleetstation, a dead world wasn’t worth a fight. The farming world of Valkyrie had reported bug landings before contact was severed. The greatest concerns in those reports was mention of a new type of bug wielding weapons. He was getting flashbacks of those reports on Klendathu with the downed Roger Young and the Bugs with guns. If he connected it right, those unknown ships were the bugs with guns.

“Any word from admiral Jarvis?” He asked the closest communication officer. 

“Negative Sir, as you know, he had taken part of the fleet on patrol to check out the fleet positions and was last near Ophion, we have gotten reports of bug fleet elements moving on that system before the local communication relay went down.” 

“Which means, he’s either fighting like hell, dead, or out of communication for the foreseeable future.” ‘and that means I’m the remaining senior officer on this front… No rest for the wicked.’ This left him few options, he was in the face of a massive surprise attack, against a great many unknowns, who had unknown capabilities, weapons, equipment, and even appearance. He held some good ground, but his line was stretched untenably thin, he couldn’t afford getting encircled and sieged out, nor could he afford his far flung bases getting stranded, which left him with the unenviable option of giving up his positions and engaging in a retreat without firing a shot, or holding the line and getting his thin red ribbon shattered by the overwhelming forces. That won’t go over well, but he had inhabited planets to consider, they would need evacuation, and regardless of what he did, he needed to contract his line. Maybe if he hurried he could get the bulk of his force back to a better defense line and regroup and regain communication with command. While he was thinly spread he wasn’t by any means without forces, he had more than 5 army groups, and a thousand ships, minus Admiral’ Jarvis’ detachment.

Oh god, this must have been what it felt like being a Russian on the border in Operation Barbarossa. He rubbed his head aggressively in thought, he would need to get his hair cut soon, it was growing a bit too shaggy.

“Alright, I’m torn between a rock and a hard place. The bugs are determined to hit us back all the way to Earth.” He started, looking to the small group of officers who were gathered around him, or in communication with him around the system, “We can’t make any assumptions, and its better to overestimate in this case than underestimate if it conserves our forces, we must assume they know the general location of Earth, or at least know the way to the central region, the question is where can we pull back to reform our lines and be able to stop them? Can we even do that fast enough?” The officers did not look like they liked what he was proposing, hell he didn’t like it himself, but he had to be realistic about this. 

“There are two places,” Carmen suggested over the extremely high resolution picture being sent from her ship, “Roku San, and Regiir. Both have had the pre existing defenses from the war, and have a good enough industry to supply us with what we need, they also have large agricultural centers to prevent starvation.”

Rico turned to a communication officer and they brought up images of the locations Carmen mentioned. He’d commanded on Roku San for nearly a year several decades ago after just making Colonel, before the whole OM-1 incident. A shit show, all of it. Sky Marshall Omar Anoke basically imploded, betraying the Federation, sabotaging Roku San’s defenses, getting a Dreadnought destroyed, and almost succeeding in transferring his conscious to the Bug hive mind and giving the Bugs everything they needed to know about how the Federation works. Only through personal intervention with the highly experimental M11 Barbar had he been stopped, and then General Enolo Phid had…. Revealed she knew all along, and proceeded to take power and cover the whole incident up, tying up all the loose ends except himself, General Hauser, Captain Beck, and presumably Sky Marshal Prime Meru. It was frustrating, Anoke was still considered a martyred hero, but such was politics. At least Phid proved to be an exceptionally skilled tactician.

But anyways, neither one looked good to him, they were all the way back to the original western border, a fair distance, but not impossible to reach, Roku San in particular would see the civilian population inhospitable to his people, but he could see what Carmen was talking about, those two planets guarded major shipping routes to the central region, it would not stop the bugs from getting there, but it was either hold the freeways and have good supplies from central, while the bugs had to take the slower back roads into central with bad supply lines, or give up the west entirely (Not a fucking option) and pull into central.

“Does anyone have any good intel on those planet’s defences? I served on Roku San decades ago, and I have no prior information on Regiir” Rico asked.

Lieutenant Stephen Hackett spoke first, “Sir, I was stationed in that area a few years back before getting my commision. Regiir is heavily fortified, the bugs had a small colony on it back during the Road to Victory campaign, so Sky Marshal Prime Dienes decided it would be a perfect logistic base, and as a result they did not want it to fall to anything. After the war, the mining companies took over, which means there's a lot of explored and mapped underground shelter we can use in case the unknowns use some form of orbital bombardment. The fortifications in the area are old, but they should be sufficient and we have plenty of anti ship satellites and launch sites which should provide a layer of defense. Roku San is not as well defended as it used to be, I do know the planetary governor built some fortifications to get elected when I was in the area, but he probably didn’t build much, the planet’s primarily a farming hub, it provides food for the surrounding systems, and they need the land to produce food for the new colonies Phid wanted out here for expansion.” 

“A fortress world and farmville,” Rico mused, “well we all know where we’d like to go, but we all know where the bugs are going to hit in force, send out a message we're pulling back to Roku San, Carmen, I want you to take Army Group Delta to Regiir to hold her, if the fortification are still in working order they won't need to much to hold it. Captain Uhlan, I want you to lead the naval forces on Regiir, you will have your flotilla of 250 ships, and you will also be in charge of evacuation. Carmen, I want a small picket fleet between Roku San and Regiir hopefully they can pick off any small bug fleets trying to bypass us, but we need to hold those planets or this war will spill over into central.

“Sir what about the civilians? Were leaving a lot people out here with the bugs.” Ace commented. 

“Our fleet is stretched thin as is, we barely have the ships to transport our current forces let alone the millions more civilians in the area. We can do our best, but I don’t need to remind you that more lives than theirs depend on us keeping the tide back. Luckily we have a good stockpile of guns and we can crack open the ligth armor again and distribute it, it’s better than nothing at least. Hopefully the bugs will be more busy trying to take us out than trying to get at the civilians. Another thing, we’re impressing anything that can go FTL. We’ll evacuate non combatants and children first.” 

“Sir!” A communication officer rushed onto the platform “News from the Artemis, she was with Jarvis!”

“Alright! What does she bring us?”

“Sir... the fleet was entirely lost. Apparently the bugs ambushed them and the used some kind of interdictor field, only she managed to escape.”

“What? How did she escape?”

“Artemis was retrofitted with a mass effect drive last month, testing to see if our ships can handle the strain, if not for the Quarian engineer on board the ship may have shaken itself to pieces, the captain also wishes to recommend the engineer for a promotion and commendation.” 

He turned back to the group, “Fuck, this makes our job a lot harder, with that interdiction field we won’t be able to escape if they come in with overwhelming numbers. I’m initiating the Stalker Doctrine, no fighting unless you can win for sure. Fabian tactics will be used. Carmen, I want you to have the fleet science staff go over Artemis’ readings from the battle and tell me how the heck they do that, Uhlan I want….”

To be continued


	4. Chapter 4

Edited by a person of many names Blood Raven AKA TimedRaven117. Go check out his story Mass Effect: X-Com Theory!

~[==|==]~

Central Terran Federation, Earth, 2666GS/2338AD March 7

Sky Marshal Hathaway felt like death warmed over, and he wished it was just the bad flu he had come down with, “Say that again Williams. Please.” He croaked out groggily, not believing his ears.

Williams looked haggard over the video link, but repeated the nightmare, “Sir: Sky Marshal In Chief Tehat Meru, Sky Marshal Ronald Lee Sanchez and Sky Marshal Enolo Phid are dead as well as about 37% of the governors the rest have varying wounds We got lucky there, some pathfinders were nearby, with the help of some construction equipment and their crews they were able break into the council building and saved the majority of the governors, as I said most are wounded in some fashion, and Sky Marshal Riverfield… he’s in no condition for command.” 

“Ah-” Hathaway coughed violently, hacking up a ball of phlegm, “... how did they get on Earth?”

Williams motioned for something off screen and he was given a small clip of papers,“We’re still trying to piece together how this happened, but we think the bugs replaced some active duty soldiers in the west and pretended to be them and got transferred to central then found out who they could replace once they got here. It's preposterous I know, but it’s the best we got. SICON thinks we can run them to ground now that we know they can do this, regardless of how they got on planet. Namely, we're going to be instituting tighter routines in vetting our soldiers and civilians as they come and go. Setting up checkpoints in every city, every spaceport getting a bioscanner and all that fancy stuff from the Citadel.”

Hathaway coughed before downing a glass of water, “Signed, sealed and mandated under emergency powers. Do whatever you think necessary but I don’t want to hear of any witch hunts you got me? Now, the big part, are the bugs still on earth?”

“As far as I can tell, yes. There have been some smaller scale attacks but now that we’re alerted they’ve failed universally, we think they spent most of their resources on this attack, Other than the nuclear explosion in the Luna Communications Center we think Luna was cleared out, Mars and the Jupiter colonies also report an all clear, it’s likely their tighter security resulted in them being more secure over all. As for what’s going on outside Sol, we don’t know for sure. We’re left using courier ships, after we lost Luna we’d need to rebuild the infrastructure from scratch. There is one hope spot, thankfully, Ambassador Maghernus has a direct line with us using a Quantum Entanglement Device whose physics go way over my head, and we’re using that 24/7 to communicate with the East using the Citadel’s infrastructure. Other than that, it’s a ten day round trip to the nearest Guilder Wave Center. But Maghernus’ QEC can’t be understated, without it’d be days before the inner colonies realized what happened.” 

Hathway shook his head, “Maghernus is a good man, what’s he got for us so far?” 

“The ambassador is trying to rally support with the Citadel, and the commanders out there are prepping to move into central in case they're needed, of note we have the Shanxi 1st Army Group, the new Foreign Legion, however they haven’t finished basic yet and are under supplied at the moment, and we also have the 5th Fleet running patrols, and the 7th Sinkiang Suns available. But that is the limit to what we have mobile out there. And the news we’ve gotten from them is not much better, the entirety of Central and the West has been cut off from comms, the south could know more about what’s going on, but Maghernus is still waiting for a response from them.”

“What about the north?”

Williams shook his head, “Same deal, without Central relaying the messages quickly, the entire Federation got thrown into disarray.”

“That’s what we get for consolidating all the fully colonized worlds under Central.” Rubbing his face, Hathaway sighed, “Is there any good news to report Governor?”

He looked uneasy for a moment before speaking, “Recruitment, and particularly reenlistment is at an all time high, although that may have to do with the conscription some countries have enacted for the emergency. Most of the countries have deployed whatever military force they can scratch together, and we deployed those Hod-Kaivos system VI run mechs to bolster our forces, though I doubt they can go a minute with the glitches, and we think we tracked some of the bug hideouts to remote less populated areas, and the local commanders are planning attacks as needed. On the invasion front the navy is in position, and we know of the likely avenues of assault, the good thing is the scare at the beginning of the Second Bug War meant all the nations have plans in place, and the realistic avenues of attack are surrounded by fortifications, and the unrealistic ones are tightly locked down by garrisons. I’m sure you’re familiar with them, having overseen their construction.”

Hathaway nodded subconsciously, he had overseen their construction, all of the fortifications were of good quality and well maintained by his decree, the only weak links would be the soldiers manning them, they were untested, unbloodied, and using outdated equipment, he had taken the actual possibility of a bug invasion as a joke after the victory at Hesperus pushed the bugs on the defensive, much of the resources that would be spent on the home forts would be better suited defending the colonists who actually needed them. But he always meant for those fortifications to last at least a century, and for them to be renewed every century with the best tech they would have. Civilizations died by outside context problems, and he had aimed that the Federation would never take home defense laxly.

Best to plan long and far ahead as it were. Good Russian style defense in depth, machine gun nests and inactive mine fields that could be manned and armed in seconds, heavy artillery bunkers and dedicated ammunition factories behind the lines, with good mix of anti tank fortifications, more machine gun nests, depots, and all of it connected by tunnels that’d make the Norks of the Early 21st Century proud. The only danger zones were the urban and suburban areas which would need to be evacuated immediately, and they would need to be manned by Soldiers quickly if they were to be manned at all, best to level the places to deny them as cover for the bugs.

Sniffing loudly, Hathaway nearly coughed up another phlegm ball, “Alright, I want Maghernus to start relaying orders, we need to get a courier ship system up and running, maybe impress some of those Citadel ships if we need to, just something that's fast and can get out of danger quickly, tell who ever’s in command of the South he may do as he please, I wish I knew who Riverfield set up, but I’ve been more focused on my own front. Which reminds me, tell Admiral Tromblay he has temporary command in the North until the situation is under control and we… And we get some new sky marshalls…” Sighing he nearly cried, “Also inform him to remain on guard and to maintain a defensive posture. I don’t want a war with the Batarians while we’re so messed up.”

“Tromblay? Isn’t he a bit of a abolitionist zealot?”

“He’s mellowed a bit since he married, he’s still an abolitionist but he’s not an idiot, he’ll know how vulnerable we are at the moment if I’m giving him temporary command. Which brings us to the east, Williams you’re from Shanxi, have any idea who Ronald was keeping an eye on as his second?”

William’s frowned almost imperceptibly, but Hathaway caught it, “I’m sorry Williams, I know you’re from Earth, but you get what I mean. You are the Governor of Shanxi after all.”

Williams corrected his frown and nodded, “Erica Chaves is the first person who comes to mind, and I’d trust her to make the right call.” 

“Then congratulations for her, she’s now Sky Marshall of the East until we can formally get someone inaugurated.”

Williams nodded and began to make the appropriate calls to people off screen, “What about the west? For all we know every military leader that matters is dead.”

“If Jarvis can’t be contacted then Rico is our best bet, that man’s a survivor, if nothing else he’ll be kicking around making the right calls, if he can’t pull the West together to hold out against whatever the bugs have cooked up, well then whatever we're doing here will be fruitless.”

Western Terran Federation, Roku San, 2666GS/2338AD March 7

Rico walked along one of the walls of the forts that had been built on Roku San to house the influx, the farm planet looked torn up to hell, but then again with the amount of Terran refugees and soldiers flooding in it was a miracle it wasn't an outright riot. He never liked the idea of moving non combatants into the west, he knew how hard the bugs were to grind out, and that sooner or later they’d be back pissed off more than ever. 

Now he was getting the ability to officially tell Phid to shove it up her ass, too bad they were still out of contact, he had sent a runner ship back to central to report what was happening and the new superweapon the bugs had. Superweapon, the ability to not flee and be pinned down into a system meant their fleet would get systematically slaughtered. They needed the Citadel here even if it would be a meat grinder judging from their abilities demonstrated in the Skinny War. But without any communication system working, the soonest the courier ship could reach central and tell them of the bug threat was eight days, and he wouldn’t get relieved until half a month at least if SICON had its shit together. Which meant he had to hold out for at least a month, which was doable. If he held on to every ship that came through… but he couldn't, any ship that was not Cruiser class or bigger was being loaded up with refugees and sent to central, if the bugs did have something that could stall out ships it was best to send anything that couldn’t fight in a straight up brawl out to begin the harassment campaign against bug supply ships. 

The issues he was having were all handled, the problem came from the unknown, such as who were helping the bugs, these unknowns aliens had been spotted a few times but they were the ones who had destroyed half the fleet and given the bugs the tech to interdict the magnetic dives, whoever they were, they were at least as advanced as the Federation and they used tech, not bio weapons. Hopefully it would be an even fight like the Petolemaics. But he knew he was being optimistic, the Federation was in for some hard times.

The bugs were not attacking like he was expecting… the bugs should have charged his lines as they pulled out, they’d done it over and over again during the 2nd Bug War, he knew how they worked strategically, but they were breaking the mold which he did not like, bugs thinking was not new, but bugs not charging in and letting civilians escape… Well it meant he was facing a stratician, one who knew that taking care of refugees was going to drain his supplies. The question was, what was the greater plan? The best General cuts down strategy, disrupts alliances, and hits where the enemy is weak. Until he knew he was planning to hold the route to central. Whatever came, Earth must be the target for a quick decapitation strike, and to get to Earth they had to go through him or risk the Federation rallying and its allies coming to bear. At the very least, he’ll give this stratician a fight to remember.

“Sir! Report from the Athena!” He had been using the Armored Cruiser Athena as a scout ship for the fleet, being the only ship with dual drives in the west meant it was the only way they could be able to scout the bug held systems without losing ships to interdiction. 

“Let me hear it comms, what did she see?” 

“Athena reports no new movement in the bug force towards us, though large fleets of the of the unknown ships have gathered at the Rousha Relay.”

“They’re gathering at the relay?” Rico replied in a way as to allow the aide to speculate, if this new enemy knew about the relays that meant anywhere in the Federation which had a relay was in danger, thankfully there was only about five functional relays in the Terran Federation, that they knew of. Rousha, Shanxi, Salambo and two minor relays that lead to deep space. Unless the bugs knew about... He banished the idea from his mind, the only way the bugs could know about that is if they had some one on Earth with access SICON top secret files, or god forbid scouted it out. If they had that, well there was nothing he could do but prepare for a bad war.

~[==|==]~ 

Citadel Space, Citadel, Citadel Tower 2666GS/2338AD March 7

Councillor Tevos sat down at the table with the other two councillors. They had been spending the last few days trying to figure out what was going on in the Federation, something that was hard to do with the security system they had in place. The ambassador had informed them of the most relevant details but they were without context, bugs had snuck into the Federation somehow and directly assaulted the government during a full session, quote from Maghernus was, “It’s like the Bugs came in and killed all the ambassadors, half the staff, and all of you”.

He had also explained that simultaneous terror attacks were carried out across the homeworld, destroying vital infrastructure and defenses. They were preparing for the worst and going into lockdown mode.

“Let’s not waste time, for it is of the essence.” Tevos began, putting her hands on the table. “From what my sources have been able to put together, the Terrans are in high alert, obviously. Now the question is, is there anything we can do about it?”

“I would have to agree that we need to do something at the very least, I saw the Terrans fighting during the war. They’ve always been paranoid about operational security, but they’re even more on edge these days, constant bioscans, and anyone going in or out gets scanned regardless. They seem on edge and more suspicious than normal like they don’t even trust their own comrades.” Gainus explained, then continued, “I have yet to get good news from the units we have stationed in the System Alliances, but what I have gotten seems to indicate that everything is wrong, communications have been cut, and the south has been thrown into disarray. Thankfully, a Petolemaic General and Governor by the name of T’Phai has taken command of the south, and the military leaders in the region have agreed to his command. I’ve heard good things about T’Phai, but he’s not important to our current predicament.”

“Even so, please inform us of this Colonel for the records.” The Salarian asked.

Gainus nodded, pulling it all from the top of his head, “T’Phai is an old war hawk, he’s well known as a political and folk hero of the Petolemaic Hegemony, he fought against the bugs in a long guerilla campaign before being defeated and enslaved by them. A few decades ago the Federation stumbled upon the world and seeing the bugs there, engaged them, and thought the enslaved Petolemaics where Bug allys. They wanted the planet as a supply point and outpost to protect their flank. Razak’s Roughnecks, an elite, but at the time normal, Terran infantry squad were the first responders. They realized that T’Phai was being controlled by the bugs and after freeing him they liberated the planet in a few hours with the intelligence he provided. After that, T’Phai joined the Federation as a private with the Roughnecks. Juan Rico, an influential Terran General, was in the same unit as him also a private, as well as one Carl Jenkin who we know later became head of Paranormal Affairs. T’Phai has close associations with other war heroes and high ranking government officials. He’s known as a trusted individual, has combat experience over large areas, and is a legally elected governor. He’s also commanded small fleet actions as well as led ground battles, making him eligible in theory for temporary Sky Marshallship, only lacking the official credentials with the Terran Fleet. I’ve spoken to him personally while on deployment and he was an honorable individual with strong morals, an upstanding attitude, family man, and very adept in the political scene. Meaning his nomination for theater command helps kill several pyjacks with one stone. ” Gainus finally took a breath.

“What do you mean?” Tevos asked for him to clarify his last point.

“The highest ranks below Sky marshal are General for the Mobile Infantry, and Admiral for the Terran space navy, officially they are the same rank so if the Sky Marshal was to be lost, and a new one not put in place or be designated to take his spot in an emergency there’d be a question of command. And we all know the political fiasco the Sky Marshall there was in, meaning he has no obvious replacement. Those two would butt heads for overall command, by placing a neutral party in command you prevent that.”

“You're indicating the Federation has lost a Sky Marshal.” Valern asked.

“Maghernus has confirmed as much, ‘It would be as if you all died’, we’re the closest thing to what the Federation has to Sky Marshalls, influential mediators and commanders over a large area of space. The only reason a new Sky Marshal would not appear is if the Sky Marshal in Chief cannot recommend one or the Federal Council cannot vote one in, both of whom are located on Earth barring exceptional or special circumstances.”

“So we have confirmation, someone attacked Earth?” Tevos asked pointedly.

“Either that or someone’s using the cover of a bug invasion to perform a coup. This would explain the mistrust and paranoia the local forces are displaying equally as well.” Valern postulated.

“Goddess both option are bad.” Tevos commented, “Let’s pretend in the least of the bad option the bugs have hit earth, what does that mean?”

“Remember that scenario I said a while ago, an existential crisis that could affect us as equally? At worst, it will be that bad.” Valern explained reluctantly, “If it was simply a terror attack that took out the government of the Federation and communications throughout the Federation, they’re not in a good position but they could still be salvaged, they need to hold their West, something they should be able to do from what we know, and they have experienced leaders there.”

“And what if it’s not just a terror attack?” Gainus asked

“Remember our meeting where we talked about what it would take for the Federation to join us? Its that.”

“Then what are we to do? It’s too soon, the Federation’s infrastructure is wholly insufficient for our ships to travel in.” Tevos asked.

“In the meantime we can funnel supplies, humanitarian aide, and volunteers their way for them to use as they please. If we can’t contribute ships, we can contribute where we can. We have idling military factories, and while we can’t help the Federation directly, we can keep others off their back.” Gainus pointed out.

~[==|==]~ 

Batarian Hegemony, Khar’Shan, 2666GS/2338AD March 9

Supreme Hegemon Dhanine Dhag'Renak Looked over the report again, “Are you sure this is accurate, advisor?” He asked his advisor from the diplomatic corps. 

“Yes my Hegemon, the Terrans have informed the Council they are under attack, but at the moment we lack any data beyond this. He interrupted an important diplomatic meeting he was in regarding our raids into their territory, so I presume it's extremely bad.”

“Wonderful.“ Dhanine muttered with a Batarian grin upon his face.

“Sir?” The military advisor questioned, confused, “I don’t see what is so great about the Terrans going to war with the bugs again, if they are as bad as they claim the Council will declare a general emergency, which would force us to join in on this war. And I need not remind you that the Petolemaic insurgents on our border have proven to be a dangerous foe, and these bugs are apparently worse.” Sometimes Dhanine hated that he stopped hiring yes men, and found some advisors worth their pay, but then again since he started to look for good advisors the Batarian Hegemony had improved. Yes they were losing bits of their informal empire out in the Traverse, but the action the fleet and army was seeing were seasoning them. 

Fear of a Terran invasion, something Dhanine had stroked and invented himself, with rumors of the Terrans wanting to let the slave free to butcher their betters had been the tip of the iceberg for his campaign, and had gotten the nobles riled up. However he was right, they weren’t ready for a war with the Terrans let alone the bugs. Not yet. “Regardless if we can take them on in open battle, this will serve as a perfect distraction, and weaken their grasp on their verge.”

“Sir?” 

“We continue our previous engagements, we’ll funnel the worthless chaff pirates to them, and it’s a win win, the Terrans are weakened in the area and we get rid of these worthless tax dodging pirates.”

“Sir thats inadvisable, we’ve already have several security leaks, enough to have a hearing on these matters, if we continue, especially while the Terrans are in some form of crisis, we’ll only bring the anger of the Council, and the Federation when they recover.

Dhanine barely deigned to look at the advisor but he was correct, their continued path would only draw more attention, attention they could scarcely afford while they modernized, “Not to mention the Council may order a general emergency, we’d be treaty bound to send in aide of some kind.”

“Why wait for the council?”

“My Hegemon?”

“Commander, you’ve been saying for years that are soldiers and conscripts are in need of a defining moment to rally behind, well you tried to get that out in the Traverse, but the Skinnies and the Humans do not fight our way, that rogue Terran and his Skinnie underlings used gas attack to destroy a division, the Black Cross has Terran designed ship which the fleet can not compete with, and that Skinnie general who used us to get far away then turned his ramshackle fleet to seize our holdings in the Terminus. We have had several critical strikes to our prestige. Let us regain that prestige under the guise of helping the entire galaxy, we already have the mantle as the gateway to the Terminus, let us become its ‘Guardians’. I want coordinated strikes and raids on any pirate base we know, and I’d like to see the trade lanes stabilized and guarded from pirates in two months. We’re going to crackdown on crime, and the Council will thank us for our selfless duty as the Turian fleet will now be free to assist the Terrans. And in the meantime to justify our sudden expansion to the Terminus, we need a certain group of people to be attacked.”

~[==|==]~ 

Northern Federation, Battleship Sol, 2666GS/2338AD March 13

Admiral Edmond Tromblay walked into his office after taking a long walk on the 1500 meter central spine of the battleship, he did that often when he read reports of Batarian slave raids, it was the only way he kept himself from going rogue and attacking the Batarian Hegemony. He had become a minor celebrity in the system and the fleet for that, as he often walked along the line and talked with everyone who was there, many found this reassuring he was not ignoring them, and he often met with civilians who were touring the massive ship or perspectives for the fleet touring it as well. 

He was not a deep man, he hated slavery because not only what he seen of the Skinnie slave pits, but he had the ancestry that required his continued hatred of the practice. His family fought in the American Civil War and the British Fleet’s anti slavery crusade. His long time grandfather had even fought as a partisan in Poland for the OSS to stop the German slavery there.

He felt it was his family honor and duty to crush those who would compel sentient beings to work or die or both. If he happened to get some joy out of doing that duty well, he would readily admit he was fucked in the head. But the bugs were starting to go up in the ranks of things he hated. Oh sure he hated them on principle, being enemies of the state. But now he hated them for what the bugs would do to the North without even coming here. The Batarian pirates would smell blood in the water and he would need to send forces West to fight the bugs, meaning a weak front. The Fourth would be no better, their ships were already probing Terran space. And the coven… well… they COULD be useful… shaking his head he noticed someone was sitting in his chair.

“Mayo...”

“Ed...” Ret. Commodore Mayo Shinya, his life long partner in crime, and wife, in full uniform looked to him with a pleased smile.

“Why are you here? I thought you were taking time off to look after Jayna?”

“Whaaaat? Can’t a wife say- oh shit the Federation might be on her deathbed time to grab my pants and kill shit-? I’ve reenlisted, Jayna’s with mother right now.”

“The Federation’s not on it’s deathbed. It’ a government, and we carry its ideal and structure in us.”

“Aisuru, they fucking got bugs on Earth, If we don’t give it our all, you better start consider proclaiming yourself Sky Marshal of the North and come to some terms with the bugs to keep what’s left of Humanity safe.” 

“Turns out, I am Sky Marshall now, news came through from the East from the Diplomatic office there, Hathaway has proclaimed me emergency Sky Marshall, and Admiral Chaves has taken the post out East. And stop being so defeatists, it’ll drag down morale, lot of kids here got family out in central.”

“And that's a good start, and gives me hope, but the point still stands, what the fuck can we do against the bugs right now? We can’t get to Central in time and we’d leave all our charges up here vulnerable anyways.”

“As much as I hate to suggest it, the Coven are a good choice to talk with.”

“The blue skinned witches? There’s desperate and then there’s flat out insane. I admit they’re a good place to start with being historical enemies but the deal would be insane. Keep in mind they’re still hell bent on assimilating us.”

He took a seat across from his wife and sighed, resting his feet, “So what’s your plan? I know you have one otherwise you wouldn’t have come here, and please don’t be succession, the Federation still has some breath in her.”

Mayo grinned mischievously, “Simple, ever hear of Kamulon? Small garden world, no official population, it’s on the Batarian side of the border, it’s rich in minerals and metals, and we’re planning on getting a lot of refugees, I’d think securing it in the name of the Federation as a release valve would be a good idea.”

“You can’t… you know what, if you can get the resources together without my help have fun, no one’s watching us and things get lost in war.”

“When the parents are away the psychos will play~” She spoke in a sing song voice, “Now as to the matter of taking power, I was joking about that. But people are getting panicky, suspicious, we’ve got good bio-security, but still shit happens. Forced conscription, desperate measures, lockdowns, all the works. Did you hear that they have some SICON reps come by the BAaT program down below, trying to convince them to join the war effort.”

“What did my sister do this time?” He sounded more exasperated than surprised.

“Lokia broke their arms… with her mind, when they tried to pressure one of her students with some bad Autism. I’d make sound effects but I don’t want to seem totally childish in this totally life or death situation our society is in. Anyways, she then threatened legal action if they showed up again, after that some Paranormal Psi-Ops agents from Minister Jenkins came by and locked it down like standard procedure, locked all the schools down as well, best to have the kids and teachers home with their families for safety.“

“Oh god...” rubbing his forehead she sighed heavily, “So what you're saying is: Besides a looming war with the Batarians, raids from the Fourth, constant Coven heckling, and the bugs Burning the West. We also have forced conscription, warmongering, outright demands for secession, AND paranoia in all corners. What the fuck is up with the Northerners?” 

“It’s not all bad, while some of it is against Federal law, we are in a crisis situation.”

“Doesn't explain what the fuck’s wrong with them.”

“Well I have a theory, kinda crazy though, and it’s probably not all there.”

“Anything please, as long as it isn’t aliens from venus or some shit like that.”

“Nothing so out there. Right so after the disorders, what happened to the vast majority of people in the world? In particular the political classes?”

“Both were disenfranchised and the latter integrated back into the population. Why?”

“So they just took away their power and left them to their own devices? The founders did know grudges can last centuries right?”

“It was a long war Mayo, a long and devastating war, lots of people were fed up and tired with bullshit propaganda, decadent rich bastards, and obviously bought out politicians. The only thing keeping the average joe from killing their former congressmen or local fat cat war profiteer was the Federal Police. And my grandfather would say it was also to make a trend, that this was a mark of a new era where the playing field was flat. Keep in mind the very same founders eschewed giving themselves or their supporters franchisement, the former continues today, I can’t even vote ‘cause I’m still in the military. They instead decided to give it to people who showed they could be trusted with such power as to elect leaders. What are you getting at?”

“What about those former Politicians out of power now? Those same fatcat war profiteers, political elite and privileged classes who lost all their power… Royalty.” She looked out to the viewscreen on the side of the wall which showed a camera’s view of deep space, “Where do you think their descendants, heirs, and children went?”

~[==|==]~ 

Central Federation, Sol system, Pluto Communication Relay 2666GS/2338AD March 16

“Any news from Earth?” Nancy Jung asked from her seat at the radar equipment.

“Nothing new, a lot of scared people and unreasonable fears.” Sergeant Johann Ostmann replied as she sat with her legs up, “and if you're trying to ask about your family again I’m sure they're fine most of the attacks didn’t target population centers.”

“Which is weird when you think about it,” Susan Evans quipped from her own Guilder Wave equipment, “I mean, if the bugs got to earth, why not nuke it out of existence? They had the ability? Are they stupid?”

“Please don’t make that assumption, a lot of people died over it. But think of it this way, they nuked Luna Guilder Station, but ONLY Luna, using its preset failsafes. Besides what's more useful, dead people, or ruined factories and power stations?” Zael Fitzgerald commented from his spot near the door, hefting his carbine, “Dead people don’t panic, don’t starve, and can’t be unproductive. Destroyed factories and power stations means all those people are living at home, in the dark, no job, and sitting there wondering how it all went wrong, how the war reached all the way here. More likely or not I think the bug aren’t the biggest fans of nukes anyways, they never used them before, asteroids sure, but nukes? No. the only who ever destroyed a planet to win is us… which…” 

Johann shook her head, “We didn’t strike first and hit their homeworld with giant rocks killing millions. Besides, as the age old adage goes, you can’t complain about the enemy if they kill you. We won, they lost, do you really think the bugs would have been so merciful if they had reached Earth? Probably used Luna as their instrument I’d say.”

“Sergeant, incoming ship.” Jung announced, breaking the silence.

[Song: They Are Here, by Elegy Music]

“Where?”

“It’s coming from planetoid S-7, getting IFF now… it’s a John A. Wardan dreadnought deployed to the west. Hmm seems to be the class setter himself.”

“Excellent, maybe he knows something, what’s his IFF mission status?

“Huh, that's strange, it's all garbled up, maybe their antenna got hit, it looks like she’s seen some combat. Listening Stations 91 and 28 are hailing as we speak.”

“Alright where’s it heading then?”

“Ahhhh….Here.”

“Here? Why would it be coming to Pluto?” Confused, Johann moved to the window of the control tower, just seeing the moon charon rising, “When will she be in visual range?” 

“She should be coming around to our side in a few minutes.” She was coming fast, way too fast for comfort.

This was setting off alarm bells in everyone's head, “Send a message to Jupiter Command, forward all data immediately.”

The message was sent, and not a minute later the red phone on Johann’s desk rang, it never rang and she could never find out what it was for, since the only tutelage from her predecessor was, “That rings? If that rings do what ever the guy on the other end says.”

She grabbed it reluctantly, “This is Sergeant Ostmann speaking.”

“Sergeant Ostmann, this is Minister Carl Jenkins. Activate all defenses, you are under attack, that ship is an imposter!”

“Sir? Yes sir!” Looking to her command crew, she shouted as she hit her intercom button, “Activate defenses, the ship is an imposter, bring it down! Sound general quarters and get some nuke launchers up asap. This is not a drill, I repeat this is not a drill!”

“It’s firing nukes at Charon Ma’am!” 

“It’s speeding up- Its entered FTL! Tracking, its heading to Jupiter Command!” As soon as that was said the oddly shaped moon on the horizon exploded into a million pieces. Looking out, everyone was agape, as taking its place was a mass relay. And out from it poured hundreds of ships. The first few waves distinctly of bug make. 

To Be Continued...

~[==|==]~


	5. Chapter 5

Edited by a person of many names Blood Raven AKA TimedRaven117. Go check out his story Mass Effect: X-Com Theory!

~[==|==]~

Central Federation, Sol decided, Lunar Defence Ring What's/2338AD March 16

Admiral Evelina Rayt Leonidovna sat back in her chair, puffing on her cigar, her eyes narrowed as she watched the enemy fleet approaching, “I knew the moment they found that damn relay, something horrible would happen.” She mumbled in her native russian, Rubbing the bridge of her nose with her cigar in her fingers. 

Leonidovna was an old Russian woman, almost as old as Sky Marshal Hathaway, the two had been enlistment buddies back in the day even. She took after her family history, just like her father who had been in the Russian Navy. Although he wasn’t exactly happy. Oh who’s she kidding? He was fucking pissed, he never trusted the Federation, and she upped and joined the Fleet. 

“Ma’am?” Her second in command asked from her chair. 

“Alright, put me on conference call with all fleet captains.” Once that was done she sighed heavily, and tched, “Listen up you little shits. A few years ago me and the current crop of high command found that Earth was in fact connected to the Relay system, and led to a nexus of relays codenamed ‘Arcturus’. Yes that arcturus, with the System’s Alliance.” She puffed her cigar, “We of course covered all that shit up, couldn’t let the Zit’s in just yet.” She chuckled, “So yeah, now you know how the bugs got such a huge fleet here.” A smile on her lips she added, “But that just means you greenhorns get to see some real action against the bugs, and learn how I got my scars.” Chewing on the cigar in her anger, “End transmission. C/C, have my fucking lazy bastards of a scouting flotilla reported back yet?”

“Yes ma’am! Reports coming in, most of their fleet has been deployed in front of us while large flotillas have split off from the main group. One is heading for Jupiter, several others are heading out of the system.”

Leonidovna thought in her head, ‘Most likely raiding parties heading off to cause as much damage as possible in case they don’t knock earth out in one go. Not much I or anyone can do, although from the size of the fleets, likely small raiding forces to keep the focus off of us and cut off communications. Smart, but not in the bug MO… Definitely those new ship’s doing.’ Bringing up her own forces, she nearly scoffed, the home fleet was rightfully a joke, full of obsolete or obsolescent ships, prototypes that never saw mass production but were good training boats, and museum ships of shape and sizes with no real ordinance to speak of. However she also had access to the entirety of the 3rd Fleet. Okay that was disingenuous, what was LEFT of the 3rd fleet, it had been in the process of rebuilding for decades now after the disaster at Klendathu. Mainly it was where all the people of Asian descent got carted off the last decade, in an effort at rebuilding the fleet with the glut of manpower. However that only succeeded in getting the fleet up to 50% capacity. The fleet was made up of the best of the best old guard captains, men, woman, and a few skinnies who fought against the bugs for most of their adult life, and were imparting their knowledge upon their pupils.

Still, despite that, they were outnumbered six to one and at least half her fleet was not combat capable, with a tenth of her fleet not even rated for anything beyond simulated exercises. To say the situation was as if they had been caught with their panties down wasn't an exaggeration. On the bright side Rico must be dead at this point.

“C/C! I want fleet estimations now! I want all combat incapable ships to begin directive delta and start evacuations of Venus and Mercury stations! Anyone who can’t fight is to scatter and report to other planets we are under attack and to rally immediately.” As she spoke, the first ships of the enemy reached the minefields in the inner Kuiper cloud. A skinnie ship with a harmonic shield might have survived that, but a living bug ship counted on her armor to protect her. And those mines were meant to cook them inside their shells. Maybe a few dozen of the living ships sailed into the field and were destroyed before they stopped, still dozens more drifted into even more mines as their momentum carried them along. However the real unknowns, those mechanical ships near the back were more rectangular and boxy than their bug counterparts, and started to deploy thousands of fighters and began to hunt down the nukes hidden before them. An admirable effort but it would take them days to clear a reliable path through the mines that way, with many hidden inside the great expanse of rocks and masses of the cloud. 

That is unless they disregarded the losses. Judging from their formation, the bugs were being used as a shield, likely considered more expendable than their mechanical ships in the back. She wouldn’t put it past whoever was in command to just push on anyways using the bugs as a battering ram. As she thought that the flotilla that had peeled off to go towards Jupiter also stopped as they impacted some mines, losing only a couple ships this time. 

And as she thought, the fleet started to move forward again, the fighters beginning to act as a picket and pick off anything that looked suspicious. Dozens more ships died in nuclear fire, but not the hundreds that would have if it weren't for the fighters providing a screen. At best the mine field would provide hours of delays, at worst an hour at max. 

As time passed, Leonidovna downed nearly five pots of coffee in anxious worry. Hundreds of ships died, with hundreds more fighters also dying in nuclear explosions. Light delay meant her information was a few hours off at worst, but her information was still good. The time bought meant her forces were now in position and her non combat capable ships were almost away. It was impossible for victory at Mars, but against the numbers she was facing? Her current forces were woefully insufficient. Geez the bugs were still arriving from the relay, the number of ships facing her were in the low thousands and rapidly rising as more were identified. On the bright side the narrow corridor of clear space in the minefield meant they were in a choke point, but that would still only delay them. 

She had to buy time, this would undoubtedly result in an invasion of Earth. She hated the idea of leaving Earth out for the bugs, but getting her fleet destroyed would accomplish nothing and allow the bugs to cause even greater devastation, the guns of the Lunar Defense Ring would provide sporadic cover over the entire planet and disrupt their invasion plans at the very least. And if they held Luna, they could prevent a full unfettered invasion, sure the bugs would get some ships down but they would have no 24 hour space to ground support to back those forces up. As long as Luna was held by the fleet the Mobile Infantry could hold Earth until reinforcements arrived. She just had to hope Earth wasn’t reduced by the time those reinforcements came.

~[==|==]~

Central Federation, Sol system, Mars 2666GS/2338AD March 16

Ret. Colonel Roza Bereza held onto the rains of her horse as she looked up at the sky. Crimson lasers and blue plasma streaked across the sky as momentary stars of nuclear blasts and what appeared to be purple tracers of unknown design. 

“Geezus! Looks like Choseungdal all over again!” Her ranch hand exclaimed as they all watched the sky burn.

“Goddamnit. It’s certainly more than that, we stopped the bugs over Choseungdal.” Roza muttered, drawing her old reaper from her side and checking to make sure it was in working order. After her years she had decided to retire, and live a more simple life as a rancher, of course she also used her contacts in MI to get some contracts testing new breeds of livestock, particularly alien varieties from the Citadel. She also got some intel from her old contacts from Paranormal Warfare friends. The bugs were on their way, and in those few days of forewarning she had started wrapping up her affairs and sending her cattle to cryo and preserving as much of the data and gene stock as possible. This was the final herd, but looking at the animals she shrugged, “Leave the gates open and usher them out! Once that's done we’re riding back to town!”

She could feel the fight up there and she could tell what was going to happen by how close the fleet was, “Kobayashi!” She raised her radio and called out, “Go wake up everyone and hand out the guns and drive to town now with every bit of ordnance I got!” She yelled into her radio as a flight of atmo fighters shrieked past her, spooking the herd of cows. 

“Ma’am?” He asked over the radio, his voice distorted greatly. 

“The fleet can’t win that fight, they’re just slowing the bugs and making them bleed for every meter. Which means they're NOT going to make their stand here at Mars. Which means the bugs are going to land here.”

“The fuck is the reason I pay my taxes again?” Kobayashi asked as he started to pant as he shouted indistinctly in the background. 

Roza scoffed, “Show some fucking respect, they’re dying up there to give us time to get in our storm bunkers.”

“Alright already! We’re popping open the armoury now.”

Looking up she saw the red beams dwindling, meaning the fleet was starting to pull back, no way to know how much damage was inflicted, but most certainly this process of retreat would take hours if not days. As she thought that she saw trails of fire streaking down across the horizon, pulling out her snooper she saw and heard them. 

Their trajectories, auto calculated on the snoopers, took them to the uninhabited wastes, and bacterial seeding plants, a hundred miles away, her horse whinnied, “I should have settled down on Shanxi shouldn’t I?“ The horse whinnied in what she took for agreement. Not needed really, her powers had many benefits, and she could actually talk to her horses on a level closer than what normal Humans could, “Well if we survive I’ll sell off the land and head for Shanxi then...”

~[==|==]~

Central Federation, Sol system, Earth, Hawaii island 2666GS/2338AD March 16

Governor Alexander Williams looked up at the night sky. Reports from the battle had been coming in all night from the kuiper cloud minefield, the close in battle of Mars and the inner asteroid belt minefield. It had been a long day with battle commencing at midnight and it was now nearly 24 hours. Now it had devolved into a vicious brawl with more than one unpleasant surprise. The fact that their ships couldn’t escape the system was one, all magnetic drives reported that there were big gravitic pulses coming from the new ships. Some form of jammer or interdictor technology. 

Admiral Leonidovna was giving as much as she was taking, and had taken the surprises in stride. Her ultimate goal was to buy as much time as possible, her fleet was now outnumbered 8-1, and a large chunk of her forces were unsuitable to conventional combat. Already she had concentrated her best as reserves on Luna, and was drawing upon them when lucky strike opportunities emerged having cost the bugs dangerous number of ships, and having even taken out a full flotilla of bug transports when one such strike ripped a ghastly hole in the enemy defenses. This had delayed the enemy landings by hours as it was estimated she hit their forward landing forces. 

But that had been hours ago.

“Sir reports of landings are coming in from eurasia. Only combat reported was when the bugs tried dropping a colony ship in the middle of Paris. Some of the bugs on it survived even though it was officially destroyed.” 

“Looks like that was the only partially intact hive that tried to land in a populated area.” The bugs had tried to land forces in obvious places for military command but that had failed universally, with only Paris getting any bugs at all reaching her limits.” Williams had immediately evacuated all governors who were able to return to their homelands or worlds. With himself and a few others staying to represent the interests of their entire sectors. Some had grumbled but most saw that if the Federation was to survive they needed to spread out and start rallying their worlds and govern them to their fullest potential. 

He had chosen Hawai’i as his place of residence for the duration of the battle, mainly because it physically separated him from every other delegate nation except the United States, but also for its military facilities.

It had served during the great disorders as a vital military and logistical point in the North American Republic for the Pacific front, and had been attacked and raided no less than a hundred times. It was also one of the first cracking points for world politics during the disorders, where in the tail end of the war it had declared secession from the Republic and declared neutrality afterwards until the war was concluded. It had been taken over by pacifistic elements of the Americas and United States independence supporters, who wanted an end to the pointless war and unrest. The Republic attempted to move on it but then Texas with the Mexican states also declared independence from the Republic, followed closely by California, Canada, and Alaska. This was followed by the majority of South America descending into armed anarchy as the populace grew tired of NAR backed dictators and were inspired by the acts of the other fragments. 

After the NAR collapsed, the EA and Russian Union rapidly imploded as well, with the Chinese Hegemony practically disintegrating after the peace treaty and crackdowns pushed the average soldier too far and they faced mass mutinies.

This base had the ability to run and observe the war across the entire planet thanks to its advanced suite of orbital sensors and telescopes, its large naval bases, and the federal wet navy/space navy shipyards. The bugs may have tried to take out the easy to find command centers, but the Federation had been preparing for invasion longer then they been in space.

Another advantage was that after the rising sea levels, much of the islands were under water, along with the rest of micronesia and polynesia, and so were impossible to find on anything but the most local of maps or in schools of the US. 

Really a beautiful place, with its many underwater towers, prodigious sea life, and lush jungle forests in the higher up places. 

“Sir more reports coming in: Landings in the Americas, upper South Africa, Mongolian Asia, and Australia.”

“That one is a little too close for my liking.” William mumbled about Australia. Depending on the bug numbers there, they could be in for a real fight and fall. Australia was still sparsely populated and a big place, and it was undoubtedly the bugs would find it easy to survive in the outback there.

“Should we assist?”

“No, action like that may give the enemy intel we’re here and we don’t want them to know. Prioritize Europe and Asia first, that’s where the bulk of our population is.”

~[==|==]~

Central Federation, Sol system, Earth, Paris 2666GS/2338AD March 16

“Check your equipment! I don’t want one of you shits telling me as we dropped, ‘oops, lost my rifle’. Because if I hear one single syllable of that phrase, I’ll strangle you to death before we return to terrafirma!” Sergeant Tanya “Ironside” Lorenzo shouted as she walked along the central aisle of the slingshot drop boat, she acted like she knew what she was doing, but that was false bravado, something she was starting to be uncomfortably good at, bold face lying to the recruiter on her age, to telling her family that she was at a technical school for colonial engineering, and not at boot camp instead. She probably should have listened to her mother and just taken the technical school career, but nooo, she had to idolise her dad to the point she wanted to be a damned war hero.

Granted as war heroes go, one who comes back from the dead was damn impressive, but finding out he was not as great a man as she had been made to believe had been a shock. Doctors said it was a minor case of psychosis and downward edge of the curve for his combat competency, aka mid level PTSD. He wasn’t broken, but he was as sane as someone forced to survive in a warzone for years.

As the shuttle neared the deployment area, she approached her vehicle and started to strap on her mark two WASP pack. The mark two was very much superior to its predecessor the mark one they had been practicing on, the mark one was just a single man flying transport, and was slow enough to be called a target. The mark two’s improvement had been a complete departure from the original, turning from a one man mobility assist vehicle which used to be used by zero G construction workers, to a fully kitted out close air support combat platform with a single pilot. 

“Mission objective is simple, we’re to provide combat support for the local militia to clear the area of bugs, I know it’s dark down there so check your damn targets, we’re firing live ammunition so what you hit will die and aren’t a fucking colored dummy.” They started to lift off in fireteams.

“That can’t be good!” Someone shouted over the radio as another platoon’s slingshot got impacted by a ball of blue plasma. Ripping the side of the ship away. If it had been a pre bug war slingshot the thing would have erupted into a fireball, but the many changes the design had undergone merely meant it hastily landed hard.

“Get in the air now!” Tanya ordered into the comms and she started to lift straight into the air. As she shouted that, arcs of blue plasma started to go towards the staging area.

Now that she was outside the slingshot and in the air with her wasp, her night vision optics kicked in, and it was almost as good as daylight. It was chaos down there, with the local gendarme, police, French military, emergency militia, and citizens leading people in evacuation, and fighting the bugs tooth and nail for every street. 

Paris was burning, the colony ship, or what was left of it, having taken out the Eiffel Tower as it crashed into the river Seine, with plasma bugs crawling out of the river onto the Champ De Mars, providing anti air and artillery support for the bugs which had survived the hard landing. Even now fighting from stubborn holdouts in the park were holding out with walls of fire around them of burned bugs and the tracers and lasers. Despite their resistance, they merely served as a breaking rock and the bugs had spread in all directions, with vicious house to house fighting and the aforementioned street to street grinds. As she watched, more slingshots and various transports across the entire city began to disgorge their payloads of soldier and take on shiploads of fleeing civilians and noncombatants.

Suddenly the voice of her platoon sergeant pipped up, “Come on you bastards! Let’s make the Federation proud.” Looking down she saw a particularly vulnerable spot in the line. It appeared the auto barricades used by the police to contain protests and riots had failed to deploy and currently a platoon of what looked to be self armed citizens were holding a gun line as a barricade was made behind them, “I thought they got rid of all those small streets after the disorders so they couldn’t barricade them.” She muttered as she reached a stable height of 50 meters before aiming down her auto grenade launcher. Loading an incendiary grenade she took careful aim and fired it in the middle of the bug pack to avoid the fire spreading uncontrollably into the townhouses beside them. The resulting fuel air explosion killed scores of the tightly packed warriors, and actually caused them to falter a moment as the front was hammered by her wingman’s 303 Punisher cannon, the citizen's below cheered as another WASP II added its firepower, halting, and then turning the bug assault.

“Roll up the pack boys! Show no mercy!”

~[==|==]~

Eastern Federation, Shanxi system, Orbit of Shanxi, FNS MIT-SC-943058376 AKA “Star Catcher II: Electric Boogaloo” 2666GS/2338AD March 16

Saren Arterius moved down the halls of the corvette, heading for the officer’s barracks, he was delivering the reports from the platoon sergeants about their mobilization status. Most of the Legion had been outfitted and trained with 201-A Morita rifles, even if most of the recruits complained about how clunky they were compared to their citadel brands they also brought along. It was not really an issue as many had bought their own citadel brand weaponry back home, as long as they kept them in the base armory when not on duty it had been allowed. They had also been outfitted with every drop boat they could muster, including a few civilian hover buses that were being armed with welded plates. Saren was not eager to test those out in a combat drop. 

Entering the officer's quarters he found it mostly quiet, with most of the Legion's officers in bed doing a variety of things, or in the small mess also doing a variety of things, including drinking. While Saren would have normally objected to such behaviour, the delineation between officer and servicemen of the Mobile Infantry was much more personal, officers were directly promoted from the rank and file based on merit and availability. A private fresh out of boot camp can become a general of an entire army group if the circumstances and stars align. Although if a private ends up commanding an army group, there wouldn’t be many people left to lead.

However, once you transited from noncommissioned to commissioned officer you were moved to another unit to free you from any ties with your former peers. This had an effect on the Klendathu survivors and their tribal way of life on the planet. As Silva explained, “We had no leaders, only each other.” It had worked well for them as inter unit rivalry was non existent between MI units, and the MI to the fleet. 

Speaking of. 

“Legio Sergeant Arterius!” Silva slurred as he downed his mug of what Saren presumed to be beer. He was out of uniform, in his civilian attire, which for MI members was a pair of tan slacks and a non descript t-shirt, “Did I ever tell you that your name sounds like a movie villain?”

“...No, Tribune Silva.” Saren… replied? He really wasn't sure how to respond to that.

Silva stopped, “Ah….. Well anyways, once this is all over I’m retiring. Or transferring to another branch of the Federation…. Tribune Silva sounds like’a bad guy's name, and I hate to have to fight him.” He hicced before chuckling.

Yeah, was there someone else Saren could give these too? Silva looked equally likely to lose the documents as he were to regurgitate atop of them.

Seran looked around to the rest of the table, to the equally drunk or outright unconscious Terrans. Shit what happened here? The last time they were this piss drunk was K-Day Memorial.

Silva sighed and refilled his mug from the tap in the center of the table, “Sols been invaded. The terror attacks were just the beginning…. Bugs are right now on Earth and Martian soil.” He hicced once more before downing another mug of beer. “I-” He chuckled, “Know this is very unbecoming of us to be seen by our charges, but we’re also going to be here for a while. You know that speech about going to help earth? Yeah well I was wrong again it seems.”

Seran looked shocked, “Wait WHAT?! Earth itself is under attack?! And we’re just sitting here!? What happened to the western wall? To the Lunar Defense Ring? To the Sol Defense Fleet?!”

“We don’t know how they dunnit, the West could be gone but it's universally doubted, Rico was there, an’ he knows how to fight bugs…” He paused, clucking his tongue, “What I say in my inebriated state shall not be repeated to any other soul outside of this room, poor for morale you see. I can trust ya with that eh Arty?” Saren nodded, and was given a seat by Silva kicking one out, “SICON found a ME relay chain leading to Sol and have been keeping quiet about it. Apparently a super highway, leading all the way from Charon to Arcturus relay nebula down in the Alliance. At least according to the briefing I just drank my way through. Bad news is it looks like that was the ace SICON was about to use here in the East once we were ready to move, so now it’s no longer usable. We and the entirety of the naval assets we’d send would be slaughtered doing a trans relay assault. The numbers don’t add up. Our ships are good… but god we can’t take 100 to 1 odds, we’ve barely succeeded 3-1 odds.” Filling his mug again he paused for a moment, “I know you're in uniform, but take a glass.”

Saren hesitated before taking a glass and filling it with a water down version of what the Humans called sake. He didn’t drink it though, Silva didn’t seem to care.

“Now it's not all shit and salt in the wound. We have allies, funnily enough the Skinnies are likely to jump on our side, the Alliance has a fairly large navy as well, maybe the Coven if we go begging, and the Citadel…. Well you’re from there, how dumb would the Council be to not help their neighbor under assault?”

“I would not say they’re dumb, even for politicians, but they’re slow to act and sometimes can be ineffective or outright ignore a problem until a problem blows up in there face. But the Turian Hierarchy wouldn't stand by while you’re attacked, they know they’d be next on the chopping block.”

“Sounds like every politician I’ve met.” Silva roared out in laughter as he drank more of his beer. “You know, it’s times like these before the battle, during the waiting.” He sat back in his chair and the entire room grew quiet. Everyone stared at him, “It's these moments one must think about their life, and ponder ‘is it right’? Did you do everything you wanted? Are you ready? Are you ready to kill? To die? To see your closest friends and squaddies die before you?”

“That sounds-”

Silva sat back and interrupted the Turian again, “Saren, what brought you here?”

Saren was caught off guard, “I- ...Well a few year back my brother died under mysterious circumstances, and it’s gone wrong from there. I believe something other than what the official records say happened to my brother. I of course don’t know what he was up to on Palavan but I don’t think he was developing next gen reactor technology in ancient ruins. But as you say, I’ve been ‘stonewalled’, can’t get anywhere, no chance of elevation, previous opportunities in the military dried up rapidly. Did you know I was lined up for Spectre training? That got terminated at the source. Whatever happened to my brother they really didn’t want me getting high enough in the chain to find out.”

“Shit, you got blacklisted hard. No wonder you signed out after your 15. Not very meritocratic.”

“Hardly, such pauses in elevation aren’t unheard of. It depends from time to time, sometimes you have high ranking family members so you're progress is halted for a few years until you’re moved out from under them. Other times familial disgrace in the Hierarchy can result in entire families finding their status put into question depending on how close they are. Other times, the most rare like mine, are only heard in cliche thriller novels written by Asari for Asari.”

“So what’s more important to you? Finding out what happened to your brother? Or fulfilling your obligations to the Federation?”

“I would like both.” Saren commented quietly.

“Not a bad answer, but what if you find your brother is not worth the revenge?”

“Then at least I will know.”

“But what if you already burnt bridges with a normal life to get there? What happens?”

“There are always options. Not pleasant options, but I can think of a few ways I can regain my honor.”

Silva snorted derisively, “Then you die or become a villain, if you have nothing to hold onto there’s nothing to hold you back from making a choice that you would once have seen of evil. Better than to prioritize the redemption part of the equation, and take what revenge you can get when you know the facts.”

Saren looked at Silva with an unidentifiable look. Just how much could Silva relate? 

~[==|==]~

Jake watched the Turian go and thought… then he got an evil mischievous idea. “Sometimes being the bad guy is good.” He muttered, poking the report that Seran had left behind, it was standard unit designation that all units filled out when created, he hadn’t filled it out yet because he didn’t really care that much what the unit was called, but now he had an idea, and damn him if he wasn’t going to use it. 

Taking out a pen he filled out the information and then finished the name. Despite his drunkenness it was clearly legible, Silva’s Specters. Maybe he’d piss the Citadel off but fuck them, if they were going to prevent a good soldier from being a Spectre he’d make him one, and it would boost the other citadel species in his command moral no doubt. After all, they are elite.

~[==|==]~

Western Federation, Roku San system, Roku San, Fortress Dienes 2666GS/2338AD March 17  
General Juan Rico waited in the command center,as he had done for what was nearing a few days now. The reports had came in, the bug fleet had just arrived in system, “Status?” he asked Adjutant Ace Levy. 

“It’s the bugs alright. Pretty big fleet, we’re still counting them up.”

“Bug? Just the bugs? What about the unknown aliens?”

“No sightings as of yet sir.” The sensor's officer reported from her station.

The command center was a hastily constructed prefab seen in everything from war movies to real life combat zones. A circular shaped room 20 meters wide, it could hold nearly a hundred people and their computers comfortably. The outer ring filled with ensigns, lieutenants, and intelligence officers of all stripes and specializations. The inner circle held the coordinating officers, who filtered the information from the noise overload to a coherent report. Then the central dias held the holographic projectors, and the commanding officers from colonels to generals. Highly defensible, auto turrets, weapon lockers, a squad of the finest men and women the mobile infantry could provide, not to mention the half dozen psionic officers whose powers could obliterate a bug with but a thought. It was tried and true, and the only other competitive counter to it was Brigadier General Jayasundera’s Tank Command Center.

“Hmm…” Turning back to the projector he watched as the bug fleet rammed straight through the makeshift minefield and started to tear into his Fleet. It looked like a fair fight, but Federation ships were trained for small unit actions, not used to being grouped up as such, while after Cassandra training was conducted to alleviate that, the post war cuts had resulted in defaulting to the previous training. If Rico had his way his fleet would have immediately left the system after skirmishing the bugs and then constantly harass the bug forces and their supplies. But thanks to those interdictors that was out of the question, and they were forced to stand and fight. Despite that many of the captains under his command were seasoned veterans of the Second bug war, with only his smaller ships he had sent away being captained by those officers who were green. Which meant fighting only the bugs meant they were getting ripped apart like they were chaff. It seemed as though the first wave would be entirely annihilated and allow Rico to take a breath and reform his line, but it was not to be as more ships came in from FTL and joined the battle, “Good news is, the bugs don’t have that interdictor. It seems only the mechanical ships do.” Thinking for a moment, Rico raised up his Guilder Wave set, “Reserves, hold your position and do not reveal yourselves. Forward line, give ground. Fall back slowly.”

“Johnny?” Ace asked as ico held onto the railing. 

“He hasn’t committed yet. Smart, he’s trying to map out our defenses, he’s using the bugs as chaff it would seem. They can easily be replaced. I’m keeping the defense platforms silent as well, we’ll activate the secondary minefield once the mechanical ships have committed, they're more valuable, I have a feeling they’re the more dangerous foe too. Communications! General order, have all ships start conserving ammunition, minimum force necessary.”

“That’s good right? I mean if he’s being over cautious in his attack we can delay his force by days.” Ace commented conversationally, 

“Perhaps, it certainly favors us until he decides to commit. Keep in mind he likely has the forces to continuously keep our ships in combat busy. By hour eight they’ll start facing fatigue, hour 12 they’ll enforce a crew shift, captains will have to relinquish to inexperienced XOs, accumulated battle damage will result in ships succumbing to stress fractures and falling apart. No retreat means they can’t fall back and rest up. Communications! Order any ship that takes moderate damage to retreat to rally point Omega! They’re to return when a medium flotilla is assembled and their damage is repaired.” Rico added suddenly.

“Then what do we do?”

“Well we can’t do anything that we aren't right now except keep our cards close to our chest. Although I may be able to bait them and cause a break in their ranks.” Rico reached over to Guider Wave set again and put it on all frequencies, “The is General Juan Rico, Commander ‘n Chief of all Federal forces in the West, I was there when Klendathu was reduced to nothing but an asteroid field fit only for resource collection. I was there when we broke your back here on Roku San, when we captured your first brain, when we annihilated Planet P. I’m a son of a city you destroyed, and like how I killed your mother, you killed mine. Bring it on you good for nothing scum! For the Federation! For the Human species! For the Petolemaics you ruthlessly cast down and enslaved! FOR TERRA!”

“You think it worked?” Ace asked, as cheer's on the Guilder Wave met his taunt, and were joined by more on select frequencies. 

“Juiciest bait I could put out there for them.” Rico boasted as the Arachnid ships in system began to ignore the battle in front of them and speed towards the planet, dozens of ships died as their attention was suddenly elsewhere, minutes later more bug ships flooded the system in the hundreds, many sporting battle damage in the rear as if they were shot. “Bingo, they were chomping at the bit. Seems whoever was in charge didn't want them running off to the fight just yet.” 

“Are you trying to get us killed?”

“I’ve disrupted their battle plan, and forced him to show his hand. We already have some juicy opportunities for ambush.” He watched as the bug ships charged in with reckless abandon, impacting the parts of the minefield that had been untouched all around the system. However they were still extremely numerous and despite the hundreds of ships that died by their reckless abandon and the minefield, his forces that weren’t hidden in system were rapidly pushed back in just an hour. Total score was 378 bug ships destroyed for only 129 Federal ships.

Unfortunately it was currently 589 bugs to his 208 ships.

It was at this point the bugs came out of their rage. Which made Rico worried, they had fought so hard and so far and now they were falling back rapidly and in order. Looking at the system, he prayed his hidden ships weren't discovered and gave the command to not engage with them yet and to remain hidden.

Looking at the map Rico guessed, “I’d say we just destroyed a third if not half of the arachnid forces the aliens brought along, and made some big cracks in their cohesive command. We now know that these aliens don’t have total control over the bugs.” As he said that the fleet began to retake its outer position chasing down the bugs and destroying another score of ships ever hour.

“Yeah and just scared everyone in system half to death.” Ace scolded, shaking his head before taking a seat, “Do you really thinking poking the bear was the best idea?” 

“If we’re not supplied in a month or two, our rations will start running low, but we have enough ammo to fight them for a year. But we still have a significant civilian population but the food they’re producing can’t be turned into something that will last along time under siege.” Rico explained, looking at the map, “So that means we can fight like hell for two months, then we start facing starvation unless we take critical levels of casualties. Our men can only fight so hard on empty stomachs.”

~[==|==]~ 

To be continued


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Edited by a person of many names Blood Raven AKA TimedRaven117. Go check out his story Mass Effect: X-Com Theory!

~[==|==]~

Citadel Space, Serpent Nebula , Citadel Station, Council Chambers 2666GS/2338AD March 18

Tomas Maghernus waited in a back room for the councillors, he was glad they had all agreed to meet in secret otherwise… well he may have not told them. Things had gone to hell and a hand basket, but if word got out how bad things had gotten it could mean the end of the Federation’s reputation and image of strength for deterrence. Things vitally necessary for any civilization to ward off would be rivals.

He heard the door open and stood up to greet the councillors as they arrived, “I am very thankful you have granted me this audience at this time of crisis.”

Councillor Tevos smiled, “It was no issue Ambassador Maghernus, I know you and the Federation would not call upon us unless it was important.”

“And I’m hoping for good news to bring back to the Union.” Councillor Valern commented, butting into the conversation, “We must hurry to business. Have you been able to establish communication with the rest of the Federation?”

Maghernus sighed heavily, “I’m afraid not. We have reestablished basic lines of communications with the North and South fringes. We are limited to courier ships in the North, but the South is using the Salembo Relay for rapid communication. Central is still a mess though and we’re still reconnecting with the world's in the area. It seems like every major communication relay was knocked out. It is unfortunate and we’re still reduced to using the Quantum Entanglement Device for communication.”

“Why not use ships from earth to communicate with inner systems?” Councillor Gainus asked as they all took their seats.

“That was the plan we were using pursuing before today.” Tomas admitted.

“What happened today?” Councillor Tevos asked, seeming to catch quick that something was very wrong.

Maghernus sighed tiredly and began, “At 1700 Terran Geneva time, the Dreadnought John A. Warden arrived in the Sol system from the west, and opened fire on the ice moon of Charon, burning away the ice that hid a mass relay. Bug forces and an unknown alien force then began to flood through the relay from the Arcturus System, they ignored Jupiter which was at the other end of the solar system after traversing the Oort Cloud minefield and fighting began with the fleet above Mars were they employed an interdictor field preventing any ship using magnetic drives from retreating. From what I can tell the battle was a grinding fallback, tens of thousands of the Fleet are already dead and we’ve lost nearly a third of the fleet while inflicting devastating losses on the bugs. However by the next day the Fleet was forced to retreat back to the guns of the Lunar Defense Ring, currently what’s left of the fleet is hiding there unable to protect the entirety of Earth. What’s left of the government has been moved to a secure location in their homeland or fled on personal transport ships to their respective worlds before the bugs reached Earth. I do not think I need to explain just how bad this situation is.”

The room was dead quiet for a full minute before the three councillors broke it in there own ways, “Dear goddess.” Councillor Tevos quietly released resting in her seat. 

Councillor Valern looked over, “Do you have any idea who these aliens are and how their interdictor ships work?” 

Councillor Gainus shook his head “We will offer any support you can use.”

“We have no idea but reports are indicating these new aliens are insectoid as well, but more technologically capable. So far they’ve stayed out of the fight and are using the bugs as the forward battering ram to shred us, we have not had the opportunity to investigate any of them. As for what you can do, I’m not sure. We expect tons of refugees coming out of central when the news breaks about the invasion and we can’t take care of all of them in the east, if you could allow them to pass into Citadel space that could take the burden off us while we prepare to move toward central. While I hate to say it, Tesla’Vir would be a good stop as well as routing the refugees to the Systems Alliance, many have extended family there and I’ve talked with the ambassador there, he says the people of the Hegemony would be willing to take them in as family in the meantime.”

“We will gladly help in that area, we will grant you some worlds in the Skyllian Verge to host them on until this matter is settled, but is there anything else we can do to help?”

Maghernus thought for a moment before speaking, “We also have shortages of everything, our public offices are getting battered down by applicants and veterans looking to enlist. We need guns, armor, food, fuel, but most importantly we need warships and transports so we can strip our ships from the east and have them start a counter attack, unfortunately we still don’t have the infrastructure to support ME ships so they’ll have to stay on the east.” 

Councillor Tevos shared a look with the others in the room, “We could supply you with relief aid and supplies but the deployment of warships and merchantmen can’t be so easily done. Relief aide is one thing, actively policing another nation’s territory however...”

Maghernus nodded and sighed, looking down to the table, “I don’t have the unanimous support of the Federal Council or the Sky Marshalls, any political or economic agreements we make could not be confirmed to be held as to the originally negotiated documents.” 

“Money won’t be an issue,” Councillor Valern started, “I’m sure we can get the Volus to give you favorable war loans to help pay for this in the short term.”

“I would need to run this by central but with how bad things are, thank you, every bit helps.”

Councillor Gainus continued, “Correct me if I’m wrong, but isn’t your force in the south divided right now between your peacekeeping in the Systems Alliance and whatever offensive you're planning?” Tomas nodded, “I think I can get the Hierarchy to ramp up its peacekeeping forces to allow you to pull your ships away for the foreseeable future.” 

~[==|==]~

Southern Terran Federation, Tophet system, Tophet orbit, 2666GS/2338AD March 20

Governor T’Phai moved quickly through the halls of the Terran Athena armored cruiser, heading for the bridge. He had spent his time wisely, gathering everything he could lay his clawed fingers on. Which was quite a lot, Sky Marshal Riverfield had a lot of forces in case the Hegemony started something with the Federation, to counter the black Cross, and to secure the Systems Alliance against Citadel piracy. Reenlistment was at an all time high, equipment was a bit harder to scrounge up for these veterans, and while many held onto their service arms from before, they lacked just about everything else. But he was in talks with the Turians about getting some of their weapons to outfit his soldiers, and a few asari armor designs for human females to free up more of his armor. 

He had enough of a fleet to strike the enemy and bring them to battle. However he no longer had a solid plan that everyone would like. Attacking the bugs was the goal and the best way to do that was to strike out west and reinforce Rico if he could. But thanks to communications with the east and by extension, Earth, he knew that Earth was under siege. He had so far kept it under wraps, but he would need to tell the greater Federation at some point, but that would leave Rico high and dry, and just make Earth a battle ground. The best option was to strike West and take back the relay, cutting the bugs at Earth off from resupply or perhaps even forcing a costly transrelay assault. 

His job was clear however, he needed to help Earth if at least in a token way, but he also needed to pursue a plan to win the war, which would be to the West.

Sighing, T'Phai looked himself over so he was presentable and stepped onto the bridge where captain Altun Olkhunut, a human of mongolian descent, was sitting in her chair. “Governor T’Phai.” She greeted him with a nod. Not the warmest welcome, but to be fair he had no longer held a military rank, and even if he had one, it’s not like he was in command of the ship.

“Good morning Captain Olkhunut, any reports I need to be aware of?”

“Some of our forces to the Southern DMZ reported that they are returning with friends, the Alliance has dedicated the entirety of its defense fleet for our plans, apparently the Turians are upping their peacekeeping allotments in the region until the Federation can right herself.”

“Here’s hoping that’s soon.” T’Phai added quietly.

“Well we're not like the Petolemaic Hegemony, taking out Earth alone won’t shatter us… How many years was your Hegemony in chaos any ways?” 

“Hard to say, our society had drifted so much by that point we had no standard record keeping, I have to guess from what I’ve been able to put together the bug killed the emperor and took Gehenna about 300 years ago... Or 500. To be frank the only difference between the time of the Headless Tribes and the Time of Hegemony was when the Gen’Tak weren't around to send the Hegemonic Imperial Fleet to crush anyone who got powerful enough to be a threat to them and their allies on the Hegemony council. So some tribes only learned of what happened in the last 100 years. Although we aren't the only ones who had poor record keeping. I remember one biblical story on Earth were a saint was made after the murder of 111 refugees, but because of a recording error it could have been 111 or 111,111.”

“Heh heh, those were the good old days... steppe tribes... in space...” Olkhunut muttered dreamily with a giggle, then added louder, “Gehenna? Didn’t news come out of the Hegemony years ago about that planet being recaptured by that diplomat… Lewy something?”

“Lew’Gen’Tak, yes I heard that he organized an invasion of the lost worlds about 5 years ago, never thought he’d do it let alone to get all the tribe of my people to gather and fight a protracted battle on Gehenna for two years straight. He probably wants to get himself named the new emperor, though I doubt the council will go along with that, at least not with making sure they can’t lose their positions.”

“Well… A strengthened Hegemony pointed at the arachnids is better than what was down there before. Besides, maybe they’ll get a dual monarchic system there, similar to what the British parliament was for a long time.”

T’Phai hummed, “I’ll send a letter to Lew’Gen’Tak, I’d imagine the prospect of being crowned as symbolic leader and not having to actually handle the arduous task of maintaining an interstellar nation would do wonders for his life expectancy.” Everyone in earshot shared a laugh before the comms ensign shouted.

“Unknown contacts have arrived in system, oh geez, that's larger than the entire Southern Fleet!” She exclaimed in panic as the crew went into motion trying to identify who just showed up. 

“Ma’am, we have incoming communication from the unknown fleet. Were getting an old Fleet code.”

“Who is it?” Olkhunut asked skeptically.

“Its… what?... um… the Code belongs to Traitor-General James Projak.”

“The Traitor-General himself? Why the hell would he be here? Has he come to kick the Federation while she’s down?!” Olkhunut yelled in incredulity.

“Well… we could open the channel and find out?” T’Phai commented.

“We shouldn't even speak to that chötgör!” Olkhunut cursed, dropping into one of the many native tongue of earth T’Phai did not know. 

“Yes we should and he should be hanged for what he did on New Cuba, but right now we cannot afford a fight, we need everything for the bugs, so if we can avoid a fight with him we should. Besides, we may get lucky and he runs into the bug fleet first to soften them up.”

Olkhunut did not look happy but nodded, “Put the Traitor-General on.”

A moment later a screen came on showing an elder Terran wearing glasses whose originally black hair was just starting to turn salt and pepper in a full green uniform similar to the ones worn by the Federation though with a bit more flare. He also did not look happy. 

“The Traitor-General. You know if we were in a less precarious circumstances I’d have ignored the fact I’m outnumbered three to one and attacked you on sight. What do you want!?” Olkhunut nearly spat out.

Projak looked nonplussed, and he removed his spectacles to look over them and polish them idly, before returning them to his face, “That’s about what I expected.” He admitted with an annoyed tone, “What I want is to build my empire in the traverse with no one peer powers to face with my wife by my side, but noooo, it turns out despite being a traitor, I’m still in bound by my oaths for the protection of Terra and her people. And despite my nature as a traitor, even I would be loathed to find myself as an Oathbreaker. So I’m here, to repay my debt to the homeworld, even if it would cost me my life. But I admit there is another just as important reason for me to redeem my oath, even if I didn’t have a shred of honor.” 

Just about any conversation across the entire system halted as they all stared at the man, “You're here to HELP the Federation?” T’phai asked in confusion “And what opportunity could get a marked man to come to a place that considers him as much scum as the bug?” 

Projak actually deigned to smile, “Legitimacy. Soon to be emperor Lew’Gen’Tak if you were to believe it. An intelligent person, and one looking to not just win the war, but win the peace. What do you think happens if the Federation falls? Well other rising stars must be cast down as well, if the mighty Federation, the great tamers of the Fringe Lords of the Yamir Coalition who shattered their power in mere months are beaten suddenly and soundly by the resurgent bug menace, what can the weakened Petolemaic Hegemony do against that sort of power? Believe me, this is as much about basic survival as it is helping a… friend so we shall say. So he decided to send a fleet of veteran ships and crews over to my neck of the woods, pointing their guns down and gave an offer I could quite literally not refuse once I heard it. When the guy who claims he’s going to be the next emperor of the Skinnies offers you a position on the Council… well as it leads back to the first word I’ve spoken on my reasons to be here, the chance to earn a clan name making me officially part of the Hegemony… Even a honorless, scum sucking traitor like you all believe me to be couldn't say no.”

“...” Everyone was speechless, Projak just smiled even more.

“Where are my manners? Governor T’Phai, a pleasure to finally speak with you, if not in person at least the closest we could ever do so. I must admit, the only time we were anywhere close to each other was Shanxi, I commend you good sir, I daresay I don’t think I could have managed quiet such an action myself. How’s the statue they built? I hear it’s dashing.” 

T’Phai abruptly ended the call, “Send a text message to him. We’re accepting his help, officer meeting at 1800 tonight. Channel 699-A.”

~[==|==]~

Terran Federation, Earth, Third Republic of Brazil, Southern plains 2666GS/2338AD March 22

General Frederico Pires looked out over the trench. From where he stood he could just see the bug army moving towards his position across the deep river, “Damn they are making good time.” He cursed, watching them before lifting the radio hook, “Fire artillery immediately, hit the big clusters.” The roar of artillery immediately opened up as self propelled cannons and rocket trucks fired. The sound of explosions could be heard for hundreds of miles as thousands of bugs died every second. God it was good to finally have good artillery support once again. Every world they fought the bugs they simply couldn't transport the ammo and guns to have anything resembling spotty coverage with artillery.

Now that they had it the bugs were finally learning that outright rushes would fail 100% of the time. Of course, the bugs had more than one way to reach you.

Stepping down from the observation post to look over his soldiers, those who would pay the butcher’s price today. Most of them were spur of the moment volunteers given as much training as possible in such a short time, they were lead by NCOs of the Brazilian army and by Veterans of the bug war. He doubted their moral would hold out for long after taking casualties, but they were fighting for their homes so it was equally as likely they’d fight to the last man. 

When he learned the bugs had landed in Argentina he knew the argentines would not stop them. It was not that they were bad in a fight, but their military was very small, and had relied on the Federation to provide troops for their needs. Not that Brazil was any different, but Brazil benefitted from good terrain and lots of rivers. Argentina made do with what it had, and reports were that piles meters high of bugs were in the plains and foothills of the country, where the artillery and machine guns had done their work. They had paid for time with blood, and it had succeeded as most of Argentina’s population was now in the cities or in their neighbor’s territory where the Chilean army and Federation garrisons were holding the Andes and his own forces were holding the provinces of Paraguay, Uruguay, and along the coast of Lago Esteros de Ibera. The former two having been annexed by Brazil in the third world war.

So his army was still streaming in, all the trains, and every single vehicle he could get his hands on was transporting more men and material. He had spent the last three days having his men dig in, mines were placed, seismographs set up, earthshaker charges set, and artillery moved up as fast as possible with enough ammo to fire for a day. Nearly a million men and women were manning the 10 defensive lines, starting at the river, and other lines at intervals a mile past the next line. 

His front line strength was full, but his rear lines were empty, and his men had orders to set up as quickly as possible in their line. The front also had a lot of argentine civilians and military who had ceded command to him, which meant he had felt lucky that he had some blooded troops to show the others how it's done, alongside the heavy equipment the argentinians brought up. 

“Sir, the bugs are moving toward our lines further east. Reports say the bugs literally can’t advance through the fire our troops are putting up.” 

“Define literally?” 

“The amount of firepower being pushed forward means they’re spending more time climbing over their own dead then advancing” His comms officer reported. 

Pires nodded, “Are they attacking the trench diggers?” The front line was done barely in time, but his further back lines were still in construction. 

“No sir they seem to be just scouting parties, they pulled back after they first met the lines. No breaches reported.” 

“Good that means we left them with only two options: under or through, and we’ll make sure they understand going under won't help them.” He was a practical man, and he was aware of the Federation’s many attempts to use poisons on the bugs. He’d gotten some the heavier stuff and combined with the earthshaker charges should be able to crush any bugs trying to go under.

~[==|==]~

Central Terran Federation, Zegama Beach 2666GS/2338AD March 25

Former Sky Marshal Heliose Straker watched from the sidelines as the governor of Zegama Beach Charles Edinburgh walked up to the podium as the FedNet press gathered in the grand hall. He was walking into a hornet's nest bravely, possible more bravely than he had shown when the press came for his job all those years ago. Shaking the memories away he listened as Charles began his speech.

“My fellow Terrans I know there has been much confusion over what has been going on, and I know that the situation seems dire in the news. Some groups have even claimed that top members of the Federal council sold out the Federation. Though these rumors are amusingly wrong. We must come to term with the facts. The Federal council on earth was badly assaulted with dozens of delegates killed.” He let the crowd respond before he continued. 

“But it is not too late, we are Terran, we came through the disorders and great wars that shattered countries time and time again, and we were only limited to one planet. Now we have many. It’s time for the many to save earth. As of 3 o'clock today, the Federal Government has reconvened here on Zegama and we have reconnected with Earth through the use of classified communications technology, and until Earth can be relieved, they have elected me as the senior civilian leader in our government. The second action was to give the Federal Council emergency war power in order to deal better with this situation. Now I know you all have questions, worries, and issues with this situation, and Brien over there will handle them, as for me, I have to put the peace in place to save the Federation and I must go.”

He nodded curtly to the crowd and walked toward the exit door where Straker stood. “Heliose my good friend, I’m glad to see you came.” Offering his hand, Heliose took it firmly.

“When the duty calls, I answer.” Heartily shaking hands. 

“And you are not alone on that.” Turning to look back over the crowd he added, “Please follow me to my office.” He led Straker out of the hall with the press and toward his office in the governor's building. Once inside, Straker saw and met a few other governors, most like the staff Edinburgh had put together to get him in power. 

“I’m glad you came Straker I know that you and the government have not got along since that bad press from the Culath campaign, bad business that, and nowhere near your fault. Who the hell could have thought that bugs would use a virus to rewrite human DNA into a bug?”

“No one but that didn’t stop that bastard Omar Anoke from claiming he did. Alas… as leading commander it was my responsibility of failure, and like a good commander I owned up to it.”

Edinburgh smiled, “That ‘bastard’ burnt a lot of bridges using the media the way he did to force your resignation either way. He had just enough charisma to hide the fact he was a moron.”

“A moron that became a sky marshal. You have to admit it required at least some intelligence for that.” Straker pointed out. 

Edinburgh blew a raspberry as dismissal, “For less than a year… then the ‘scientologists’ took care of him for us. Although from what I can gather what he did was brought upon himself.”

Something about the way Edinburgh said that was unsettling, “So Charles why have you called me here today? As you know I would be better sent towards a regiment or even an army group to whip them into shape for the counterattack.”

“To save the Federation of course, Culath was bad, but the rest of your career was excellent, I personally think if you stayed in command one more year you would have pushed the bugs back far enough we wouldn't have needed the surprise attack the relays gave us on K-day 2. If you're willing to take the job, you'll be assigned as senior commander of all central forces we have contact with. You of course have to make accommodations for the army commanders and naval captains, but you’ll nominally be in command.”

Straker didn’t think, “It’d be an honor.” Many people wait a lifetime for a second chance, many more find it and let it pass. He was not one of those people. 

“Excellent.” Edinburgh said with a smile, “Well then would you like to hear our plans to save the Federations?”

“I hope they’re damn good plans, from what I’ve seen we need them.”

“As best as we can with what we have. We’ve just gotten a report from Ambassador Magherus, a lot of the navy in the fringes is getting relieved by the Turians. A lot of people are grumbling about it, but privately I think it’s needed, ships doing nothing but patrols out in the fringes does neither Earth nor us any good. In pure numbers for you to know about however, we have a sixth of the Federation’s total infantry garrisoned here in Central, most are green recruits going through basic, and they’re armed with crap. Rico out West had all the blooded troops and the equipment as well, this isn’t including however the Legion out East.”

“Legion? You mean those pet regiments by the Governors on the border?”

“Yes. Although they aren’t pets I’d say, they have Klendathu vet officers, and their ranks are filled with highly motivated aliens. I’d give them good odds at putting up a fight, they’re basically the only thing out East that is worth the paper they’re written on when it refers to us, fully mobile and heavily armed with Citadel heavy weaponry. Other than that the East has nothing of worth besides their ships to send. We can give up on the North sending us anything of worth either.”

“The fourth?”

“Yup. Anyone we contacted absolutely refused to abandon their posts until the civilian populations could be evacuated. Unfortunately those populations have nowhere to go here in central, we have our hands full with the refugees from the West Rico sent. We’ve also received no status reports from the South, yet, our line of contact was severed when Earth got attacked. However last reports were that they were mobilizing everything they had. I hate to admit it but T’Phai’s a good choice for overall command, and we can count on him making the right choices, whatever they are.”

“In regards to our economy for wartime, we’ve nationalized the necessary industries and directed them to start pumping out everything we can. We’ve also tried our best to start training and arming the new wave of recruits. But…”

“It’ll take months to even get them to a basic level of readiness.”

“Yeah, low end estimates if we rush everything is 4 months. Quite honestly, our hopes of relieving Earth rests upon T’Phai’s shoulders. He’s the only person with the troops, the ships, and the skill to give us chance of victory anytime soon.”

“Do you think earth has that much time?” Straker asked seriously.

Charles shrugged, “No way to know, but for now I’m not betting on us saving Earth, for now we must prepare for the next stage of the fight, look long term if we’re to survive for sure.”

“I might be able to speed up the process of reforming the army, if you're willing to sign amnesty to any former citizen or attempted citizen who served in the Federal military. A lot of those are scum at worst, but if they made it through training once they can help get the new bloods through while getting retrained themselves.” 

Edinburgh nodded, “We’ll have to think about that Sky Marshal Straker.” 

~[==|==]~

Central Terran Federation, Earth, Paris France 2666GS/2338AD March 31

Sergeant Tanya “Ironside” Lorenzo stood on a balcony looking out over the ruins of Paris, she had lost track of how long the fighting had been going on, but it had been street to street the whole time. Thankfully who was ever was in command of the shit show had finally called it a victory, which did not mean the bugs were wiped out, but were so broken that they could leave it to the french military and police force to handle. Meaning once they were reorganized, the MI would be redeployed east. 

Most of the landings in Europe and around the world have been contained and quashed in less than day. It had hampered mobilization but the quashing of the landings had been accomplished ahead of schedule apparently. All forces were being packed up and heading east to Russia and Kazakhstan. Apparently a lot of bugs had landed out there and it had been decided that was the biggest threat on Eurasia. The plan was to meet them out there and crush them under the treads of the tanks that were being rushed into service and any other weapons they could grab. 

Of course that was the plan, if things were going to plan she’d have finished her training without worry of bugs shooting her out of the sky. A very unlikely thing, but possible considering the bugs had several varieties of air based species with them. She’d have thought she would have run into the new aliens once or twice during the fighting, but she had no luck in spotting any. Apparently it was just a normal hive that landed here.

Things from the rumor mill were the new aliens were large 6 legged soldier bugs, as the other troopers were calling them, and each commanded platoons of bugs in battles. From the stories she’d heard from old vets it was like fighting the bugs when under the command of brain bugs or queens at close range.

“I should have gone to the technical camp.” She groaned under her breath. She felt sore all over, and was nearly deaf from the constant firing of her punisher cannon. 

“Yeah, I feel ya trooper.” Tanya looked back to see Sergeant Major Rolf Ekdal.

“I knew it’d be hard, but god I didn’t think I’d go deaf in my first battle.” Tanya replied. Decorum had been lax after the battle.

Rolf was a veteran of the last war, though she wasn’t sure where he served, he kept his medals and stories to himself. He was getting on in his years, his temples salt and pepper despite his gene therapy, and looked grim as he smoked a cigarette, “Sergeant, will your boys and girls be ready to move out by tomorrow?”

“Yes sir. We’ve got our fuel, ammo, and replacement parts all in order.” Tanya explained flatly, “We’ll be good to go and ready to fight for another week without resupply, depending on the severity of fighting.”

“Excellent.” Rolf commented, taking a drag on his cigarette, “How’re you feeling trooper? I know you’re goin’ deaf, and you look like you were hit with stones all day. But that’s the same with the rest of my company.”

“.... Just… tired sir. I want to lay down and sleep it all away.” She half whispered out as she layed back on the ground, looking to the smoke filled sky. 

“I know those days. It was like that after my first combat deployment. Was on big K don’tcha know? When I got back in my bunk on that ship I didn’t stir for… Think it was 40 hours. Just wanted to stay in bed and sleep. You never get better though. Not unless you chance section 8. Forget everything. Been tempted to request it. But I never took it. You know why?” Tanya had a feeling she should really be listening to this.

“Why’s that sir?” She continued to look over the burning city skyline.

“It’s the trooper besides you. The partner in battle, the brothers in arms. My friends, both alive and dead. They’ve kept me going through all those moments. I’ve been in many situations where I thought ‘This is it. I can’t go on.’ But one look at my friends, my company, my regiment, and I got up, ignored the bruises, broken bones, and kept right up with them every step of the way.”

Tanya looked to the sky once more as she saw the smoke drift around, the sun’s glorious rays were only now starting to peak above the horizon. From the balcony it was wreathed in smoke, giving the entire world a hellish red haze, “Why’s your smoke blue sir?” She asked randomly.

“Combat stimulants. Homemade by combining the stuff they give you with tobacco and smoking it. Bad for your lungs, but fuck em, I can get new ones with the pay they’re giving me to test the shit out.”

“Really?” 

“Yeah, but the main ingredient is chemically altered Dust.” That made Tanya's Heart skip a beat, sliding as far away from her sergeant as possible on the balcony, and cover her mouth

“Jesus Christ, that stuffs outlawed everywhere!” She practically yelled. Dust, also known as hyacinthum pace, or in english Blue Peace flower, was derived from the flower’s blue pollen and had been native to Zegma, but no one caught on to its addictive properties until some pot smoker decided to combine the sweet smelling flower with his joints. Dust was an amplifier for whatever was cut to it, a very powerful one even without refinement, as the old saying went, no one died of weed. Well that poor pot smoker did. Infact most drug cartel’s who used it specifically genetically modified it to lessen its effects. 

Unfortunately this wasn’t learned until the plant had spread across the entire Federation as a beautiful sweet smelling decoration and home plant. Fortunately the innate danger of its pollen when combined with pharmaceuticals meant that only the craziest of people kept them in their homes anymore. 

A few drug cartels looking to get a new product on the market refined it and proceeded to cut it with their most addictive of drugs. The most infamous of these were the Zegma Cartels who had cut their version of dust with extremely addictive amphetamines and opiates, making their buyers drug slaves to their organization. After that became common knowledge their new sales dropped to near zero and they had to resort to kidnapping and stuffing people in drug pens to get them addicted. The cartels quickly folded under pressure from suppliers, the government, the people, and their own members. Now the only cartel still doing those practices, the namesake Zegma Cartel, was on the verge of annihilation as MI worked in a rare civic case and hunted them down. 

Normally Military Intelligence couldn't get involved in civic cases. However a one time bill was passed to allow the psychics of SICON to hunt down and destroy the organization. The bill narrowly passed, but its effectiveness was unquestioned, and it was thought by many that the government would keep it as their nuclear option for any large scale criminal organizations.

“Yeah. I cut the dust they gave me, up with some go and no go pills for when I need to chill.” Go pills, a term that has it's roots in Late 20th century military circles, was an amphetamine pill that would keep the user awake and sharp. No-Go pills were a hypnotic drug that helped promote restful sleep. “On one ciggy I can stay awake and clear minded for about 10 hours. I can’t double up however, so I can only smoke one a day. Doesn't solve all my fatigue problems, but better than nothing. Plan on a full detox and med screening after the trial period ends though. Command was obviously sketchy on doing this, but I got my sources.”

“You're kidding?”

“Nope.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a new carton and tossed it to her, “Trust me this stuff will make you forget what sleep is. They’re color coded, blues are the no go, red is go. Don’t take a blue in a combat zone, you’ll be out like a light for 8 hours minimum. Speaking of.”

Tanya grabbed it mid air, her other hand still over her mouth, “It's not fatigue that’s holding me back, its how much ammo my bird can hold…”

“Ah just hold on to them for me then, if you do take one, I’ll talk to SICON about getting your name put on the same drug trial if you want, I got sources after all.” Cracking his back he finished off his butt and flicked it away, “Right, I’ll be getting on the truck and be asleep. If something happens take it up with Richtfeld.”

Tanya looked down at the carton and shook her head, but not before putting it at the bottom of her kit, planing to never mess with that stuff.

To Be Continued.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Edited by a person of many names Blood Raven AKA TimedRaven117. Go check out his story Mass Effect: X-Com Theory!

~[==|==]~

Terran Federation, Earth, Third Republic of Brazil, Southern plains 2666GS/2338AD April 5

General Frederico Pires watched the bug army approach from the command center he had built into the ground at trench line five. He could only fathom the number they were sending at his army, but he could tell they were sending everything, he saw many variants of tankers, mixed in with the warriors and other smaller breeds. As well as a column of what SICON was calling soldier bugs. The way they moved made it apparent to him they were the aliens, he fought the bugs on pluto, he knew the way they moved. Animalistic rush and unorganized mob, he may have been out of the game for much of the following war, but he could tell by their purposefully paced, organized stride that they must be the ones who organized the bugs to earth. 

They hung back, letting the bugs rush forward while their more disciplined column in shining yellow armor followed behind, holding a variety of weapons that looked to be in league with Federal heavy weapons. Perhaps they were following behind the bugs to herd them and use them as a meat shield? Keep them focused on point? It was hard to tell, but he had to end any dreams their commander had of having an easy conquest. 

“Order to artillery! Fire for effect, sustained bombardment, focus on infantry clusters, leave the armor for the air force.” Pires ordered into the radio himself. Soon muted thumps of thunder resounded as the big guns opened up, arcing their shells into the bug forces. Most of the guns were museum and warehouse pieces laying around since after the Disorder, so it was not surprising that there effectiveness and accuracy had degraded in their time with lack of maintenance. But with such a plethora of targets it would be hard to miss, and the few thunderstrike cannons mounted on gecko APCs began to fire. Situated miles back on hills, the rail guns ripped massive gouges in the bug lines as they charged forward, trying to close the distance with his lines as artillery shells fell like hail from the sky and mines underfoot killed two to three bugs at a time. Running right into minefields, razor wire, pit traps, electric fences. But even with the massive casualties they suffered through, they kept coming, sending more and more bugs into the killing fields, carpeting them with bodies. 

“Forward line, open up. Second Line MGs, open up.” He ordered, and almost simultaneously a wave of bullets and tracers punched their path through to the horde, twin 50s and autocannons unleashed their fury, followed closely on the heels by thousands of morita and many more archaic weapons. The bug forces staggered, the front line getting mulched and riddled by the firepower impacting them, but they rapidly recovered and kept coming despite the rain of shells and the incoming firepower.

The first line was made up only of light infantry with small tunnels they could use to run through back to the second line where the first heavy weapons were. He was contemplating keeping them there for a few more moments until he saw firefrys, the green little grasshopper shits, shitting fire onto pillars of flame, jumping headlong to the second line.

“Third line open fire. First line fall back.”

Missiles, rocket propelled grenades, scattered morita fire, and quad linked browning MGs erupted into the air, shredding the first wave of firefrys, but as the missiles which did the bulk of the damage were reloaded the second and third wave came. Landing in the midst of the second tench network above the trenches, a few more died, but the hundreds of them landed in the tens of miles long trench line still had fire in their bodies. Some of the men and women in those trenches died. But he winced at every explosion and earth shaking explosion, each marking the destruction of a vital ammo dump. He could almost hear the screams of the dying as they brunt in the flames of the bug’s breath. 

“Sir the tankers are starting to move forward, alerting the air forces.” Pires had kept his aircraft in reserve for now since he didn’t want to risk the valuable airframes in a violent furball that the bugs would win with their superior numbers. But now that the tankers were closer his own anti air envelope could provide covering fire. 

Firefoxs, armored VTOL gunships, could take a solid hit, but were more than capable of dishing out the hits as well, and after decades of fighting the bugs the pilots in them felt more at home in the cockpit than in South America. So as the first tanker stepped over the metaphorical “first line”, the ripplers, hopper and fireflys that had been covering them were subjected to anti air fire, killing thousands and forcing the remaining tens of thousands of the screen higher. Firefoxs took their chances, swooping in from their hidden positions all along the line, firing anti tank missiles. Any bug who tried to intercept soon found themselves busy as F-76 Thunderbolt fighters fired and swatted them from the skies, ensuring to remain over their own flak envelope.

The bugs crashed over the first line, finding the trenches empty and charging on to the second, but now the fourth line joined in and the first line’s explosive lining detonated, quite literally shaking the world for hundreds of miles, it was so loud that the nervous defenders of anchorage Alaska heard the faint thump in the wind. Nobody, not even the fanatical bugs could withstand that, in mere moments nearly a million bugs were killed or crippled, in that time the entirety of the forces arrayed against them were also deafened, shocked, or unconscious bleeding from their ears. Pires included. The shockwave in the air could have only been exceeded by nuclear weaponry. Windows as far away as Panama broke. The aircraft in the sky themselves were shaken, bugs fell to the ground stunned, and even some aircraft as well as their computers were too shaken for the autopilots to kick in for the unconscious pilots. 

The only explosion that would have even been in the same category was the Battle of Messines, after 12 mines full of explosives detonated. This however was on a whole different level, it would have been as if the explosion occurred from the coast of dunkirk all the way to the swiss alps. It had taken every last bit of fertilizer, explosives, and TNT in the entirety of South America but it had been done. 

No one was firing, advancing, the bugs, and the soldiers amongst them stopped in stunned silence, nothing could prepare a creature for such stunning acts of violence. Pires could barely hear himself as he screamed, feeling his voice grow course, “KEEP FIRING! KEEP FIRING THE ARTILLERY! KEEP FIRING THE MGS! KEEP FIRING EVERYTHING TO THEM UNTIL THEY GET IT! THEY WON’T TAKE A SINGLE MILE OF LAND! THEY WON’T TAKE SOUTH AMERICA, THEY WON’T TAKE EARTH! SCREAM IT OUT!” 

Slowly they got the message, artillery started to fire, some over eager to continue, after picking themselves up off the ground from the shockwave, others heard the tinny screams of an old man, the roar of artillery returned, and the bugs actually faltered, and despite the soldiers looking ready to prod them on, even the animalistic parts of their minds told them to run, to run far away.

And as the machine guns, the small arms, the artillery, the strafing runs came. The hysterical screaming of millions of voices came. The bugs turned and ran, they turned and ran like no one had ever seen them do before. 

The men and women in the second trenches got up and started charging forward, overtaken by fanatical zeal and disorientation brought on by the shockwave, they assaulted the bugs, or tired to at least, as even the fastest of humans couldn't hope to match a bug running pellmell away. But for the bugs crippled on the ground they were mercilessly shot and hacked into by bayonet, gun, and rock.

“we won!” The faint tinny of a person's voice came. Surveillance drones all across the lines showed a similar picture, the bugs were broken, routed, a great chasm of upturned soil, mud, and blood between them and the bugs. The banks of the river permanently scarred by the explosives. Carpets of dead bodies lay forward by miles.

“sir!” Someone tugged on his shirt, and he looked over having not even noticed the man come, he looked dreadfully young, but the smile upon his face eclipsed the youthful features. He tried speaking, but it was all muffled and quiet. Upon the stone unheeding face, the young man brought up a data pad. Simply it asked “Armored corp reporting….. Advance?” 

He took it, “Negative, terrain impassible. Bug broken, not shattered….. Yet. Likely Soldier bug will recon ahead. Prepare to counter breakthroughs as per plan.”

Feeling light headed, Frederico signed off command to the much younger and still capable Brazilian army general. Reporting to the medical facility in the base, it was filled with deaf, bleeding, dying, and concussed. For more than a few, they were already dead, their brains turned to jelly by the force of the explosion’s shockwave, their bodies just didn’t realize it yet. 

~[==|==]~

Northwest of the Northern Federal Fringe, Battleship Sol, Orbit of Terran Republic world Sprange’s Defiance 2666GS/2338AD April 9

Admiral Edmond Tromblay looked upon the view screen as the white ships of the Republican Traitors rose to meet his battleship. They were old Rodger Young frigates, painted white to show their solidarity with the Coven. Tromblay suppressed his snide thoughts, and remained stoic. ‘They must be drinking a lot of blue kool aid to think that there little republic would not be annexed once the coven felt like they could get away with it.’ he couldn’t help but think.

“Sir the lead ship is demanding we leave Republican space to the treaty line.”

“Tell them we will leave as soon as they arrange a meeting with their Coven advisor.”

“They are refusing-”

Mayo made a sound between a growl of annoyance and a roar of anger, snatching the microphone from the Lieutenant, “Listen up you dumb fucks. Earth is your homeworld too! The rumors, if they’ve reached you, are true, Earth is under assault by the bugs, it’s in your interest to help us, it’s in the Coven’s interest in helping us as well. If for nothing else then to prove to others you still have honor. Will you nut up to the occasion? Or will you cower behind the charade of ‘independence’?”

Edmund just shook his head, “I should have left you at home.”

There was an awkward silence in the bridge, and quite obviously in the bridges of the opposing ships and the room of whoever had a radio strong enough to hear the message, “...They’re sending a shuttle to Sol, sir. The Coven Advisor will meet with us.”

“Sure but then you would not get anywhere Aisuru, you’re too nice. It’s why I married you after all, I love to dom-” 

An incoherent garble of rage and frustration overtook the bridge, “Oh for fucks sake you two! Get a room!” One of the lieutenants all but screamed from his seat. One could only take so long of the passive aggressive flirting between their admiral and his wife.

Sighing Edmund grabbed his old Stetson hat to hopefully try to hide the blush he had, “Tell them to land in bay one, we’ll meet them there. Have psionic response teams on standby.”

~[==|==]~

As the shuttle came in for a landing on the planet, Edmund could see that city the Coven pets used had not changed much since Terran control, yet there were a few alien looking buildings that appeared to be made of crystal. They were centered around a small park and contrasted sharply with the strictly utilitarian colonial era skyscrapers. Much of the city had been converted to industry, smoke stacks pointed towards the sky vomiting orange black smoke into the air and even in the midday sun the fires inside could be clearly seen with the buildings attended to by Chickenhawk and Ape civilian exosuits. Looking to their destination, it was destined to be the heart of the crystal buildings a greeting party waited in parade formation in pure white dress uniforms on the solid green landing field. If a fight broke out, which judging from their armament and formation, it was unlikely to be started by the Republic, it would be a slaughter in favor of his pathfinders.

As the shuttle door opened, his two honor guards stepped out in synch and saluted to him as he exited, he had dressed in his best uniform for this occasion, also pure white, it held the entirety of his service medals and ribbons, jodhpurs, with a crimson belt and sash representing the blood of humanity that had been spilled and will be spilled. The only non standard issue item was his trusty stetson. Mayo followed in her own dress uniform wearing her service beret, in her own best, a pair of sunglasses hanging from her breast pocket. The pathfinders also had a few extremely strong psionics in the group who would protect them in case of Coven seduction. The team was specially trained and experienced in fighting the Coven, going by the code name, “Witch Hunters”, they moved in perfect synch as they formed an octagon around the two high level commanders, the human next to the black haired Coven looked very angry.

“We presumed this to be a civil meeting.” He stated with venom.

“Have you drifted so far from the human mindset? The right to bare arms is a central tenet to all of mankind.” Mayo commented confidently. “We will go unarmed only when the Covenite will go without their powers.”

The black haired advisor looked them all over before smiling with a bit of a glint in her eyes, “It’s been awhile since I’ve met you all. No matter. My defeat then will not reflect on our conversations now.” With a sudden about face she walked away, “Come along now we have much to discuss.” Moving off towards a crystalline pavilion, several Covenite guards held the door open. 

Entering the pavilion the kaleidoscope effects of the light filtering in, shaded the interior, it was the skylight to an underground greenhouse or perhaps an office. Edmund looked down to see the foyer several stories down made of shining marble with glass inlays forming complicated plant like patterns, along the walls he could see banks upon banks of offices, trees, and extraordinary plants growing all around. Leading forward there was an arched meeting room at the very top made of crystal and glass, the air was filled with various hues as the foggy air tinted to the various colors of the rainbow. In the room stood five Covenites, dressed in simple white robes. All of their eyes glowed a soft green, “The Siren queen of Crow sends her greetings.” They were likely the rumored thralls, beings of great power crippled by mental disabilities, used by the queens as puppets, speakers, and batteries for greater abilities. Inbreeding is a hell of a thing. 

Edmund simply nodded, “Greetings in return. We must make this quick, can we speak in person?”

“She may deign to meet with you if you tell us why you are escalating the situation so greatly.”

“The situation? You mean this cold war? Simple: it’s stupid, and I’m going to end it here today, peacefully. We have the same foe, the bugs, and if you want to let them roll over us, fine, and I assume you plan to take the north under your wing in some grand gesture. But there is just one problem with this. Care to guess? If the bugs held you at a stalemate for hundreds of years before, imagine how powerful they’ll be fresh from victory over Earth and shattering Humanity, I won’t insult your intelligence by saying more. So what I want is simple, we organize a demilitarized zone between our two peoples, we join together in a joint command strike force, and take the fight to the bugs. If you and your lackey Republicans don’t see this fit, an official treaty to end the war and a non aggression pact will suffice. Total refusal however... Well lets just say if we go down, the Republic will go away like a star.”

“You do realise you would never win a war with us?”

“Get in line. I’d love to see you somehow win against the combined might of these new aliens and the bugs.” 

The five looked to one another, murmuring in their soft buzzing language, exchanging looks of concern, “... Crow will meet with you to discuss a treaty.” The leader of the group announced, then started turning to lead them.

“Thank you.” He breathed as he walked behind the group.

They were guided, quite sadly, through plain sterile halls of black obsidian, to be met with a bronze ornate door, “You may enter but your guards must stay here.”

Edmund could hear the protest from his anti-psyker bodyguards, but he filtered them out, “My wife comes with me.” He demanded with utter surety. 

“Fine.”

They entered and found a lavishly decorated…. Office. While he’d expected a throne room, not an office. five by five meters big, holding many trophies and mementos, pictures only half seen, a statue made of pure silicon and glass, a Coven witch, holding an ivory coated bug pincer in her hands, her face contorted with rage and a scream of defiance… Yes… Defiance. And pain. 

Once they reached the desk the tall chair turned, revealing a coven beauty in a pantsuit, a medal board upon her breast, sitting in the padded glass swivel chair, exotic fur lined the edges of the velvet interior. Her eyes were glowing green as they entered view, though they dimmed considerably as she focused more on them, “I must say you are either very desperate or have bigger balls than most. Ever since the Siren Queen of Vulture killed Sky Marshall Keets I didn’t expect anyone above lieutenant to ever enter the spider’s den. But I'll cut to the chase as it were. I presume you have the treaty ready.”

Suppressing the onset of a migraine, Edmund smiled, “Indeed we do.”

The Siren looked to Mayo and scowled, behind the dark sunglasses dim red lights could be made out to be the pupils of her eyes..

Mayo smiled, “Dropping those kids off on Earth to form that ‘fifth column’ was perhaps the dumbest move you've ever committed by the way.” She taunted with no small amount of relish.

Crow smiled, and motioned for them to sit, Edmund looked to Mayo and suppressed another migraine, Mayo was starting to give off that protective aura she did when competition entered his sphere. Sitting upon the finely crafted wooden chairs, made as if from the vines of a great tree. Relaxing into it, the wood was surprisingly soft, almost a cushion, “Tell me about it, fucking Vulture came up with that plan. Can’t believe that stupid Iniemia ever got command of the expedition. You know how many children of the song we lost then? Five hundred! I swear if it weren't for Falcon’s cutting of the project we may have lost many more to your propaganda.”

“Meritocracies tend to do that, especially for those who genuinely are good at what they do.” Edmund interjected with a cruel smile of his own.

“Back on topic, the bug invasion of the Federation.” Mayo stated.

“Yes, the true masters behind the game finally deemed you a threat.”

“The who?”

Crow stood and went to the glass wall which had gone unnoticed as it suddenly rippled like water, windows started to pop up with pictures and writing in her language, “The Arachnids older, and smarter sisters, the one our empire has been fighting for longer than your subspecies has likely had civilization.”

Edmund looked to it and sighed, no time to ask questions, “While I would love a history lesson, we have no time for that. Will you agree to this or not?” Placing a datapad on the desk, Crow took it and sat down.

“If that is all you wanted you merely needed to speak with my thralls. What else do you require?”

“Well first, this is unofficial, if your pet Republic is funding any dissidents in the north could you tell them to knock it off. But the main other reason is I’m betting with your empire being so old you have a hotline with the Fourth.”

Taking the datapad close to ehr chest, Crow leaned back, she took on a more, haughty, look, her chin upturned as she suddenly got suspicious,“Perhaps we dooooo…….” 

“Well could you tell them to ban the prophet from their territory? At least for a while? We need to move the troops and ships we have guarding the North to reorient to the bugs, if we can’t do that then we’re stuck defending and not taking the fight where it matters. It would also deescalate that brewing war a lot if we could confirm it’s just that ass hole and his followers and not the entire Fourth species.” 

Crow made a look to consider it, before turning her head back, and fixing him with a heart burning stare, “Hmm, I will see if we can pass it along.”

~[==|==]~

Western Federation, Roku San system, Roku San, Fortress Dienes 2666GS/2338AD April 12

General Juan Rico Stood outside in the cold of the night, it had not been for nearly a decade since he had been out in a night like this, upon this world, the last time it had resulted in disaster, thousands of his soldiers died before him even as he lead a counterattack against the bugs. Definitely, he looked to the stars above, and saw thousands of them moving, streaking. 

They were still out there, keeping his force pinned around the world, but they were not risking another attack. Yet. Perhaps he scared them, perhaps they were waiting for reinforcements… or perhaps they had correctly guessed that food would be an issue. Whatever it was he was not wasting his time. He had given half his army leave to work on the local farms to help supply more food, it was no way near enough to keep them fed indefinitely, and the grumble from the canteens of more beans and genetically modified rice could be heard, but at the very least it would extend their food supply for another few months of siege. Rationing it to the calorie.

Looking up at the night sky with his one good eye, he heard a trooper approaching, he ignored it for a moment, thinking of the last time he visited home. Buenos Aires. Technically he was of filipino descent on his mother’s side, but his father was a prominent argentinian businessman, and when the two met on his many travels around the world they had fell in total love. 

A tear fell as he thought of the stories his parents would try to tell him when he was a child, how he would be too young to understand, and then too old to care. Then it happened, the asteroid came, mom died, dad almost crippled. He wished to hear her voice, in person, one last time. Rico. He thought he did for a moment. 

Rico

“RICO!”

Ace was there, he looked pensive, and turned away a moment, allowing Rico to reassume his stern demeanor he normally had for his soldiers. Wiping the tear away, he took a deep breath, “Yes?”

“We’re getting a message from out of system.” Ace explained plainly, holding in his arms a field telephone.

“Well don’t keep me in suspense, who from?” Juan asked hopefully, leaning against the railing.

“No, it comes from the enemy. An individual calling himself the General for the combined forces of the Pseudo Arachnid Empire.”

“......”

“.....” 

“... Okay good one, next you’ll tell me God is calling and is asking for his balls back.” Juan broke the silence first.

“Sorry, sir, he’s insisting on talking to you alone.” Holding up the field telephone Juan took it reluctantly.

“Swear to God Ace, better not be a joke.” Starting his walk to his office, he asked, “This is General Juan Rico of the Mobile Infantry who is this?”

“This is General Ro of the Pseudo-Arachnida Empire, commander of the Fleet currently besieging your planet.” The thin, metallic nature of the voice made it clear it was using some kind of communication software. “With that aside, I must say, it is an honor to speak to you General Rico. As it should be, a Human of your capabilities I will assure will not die today! The tales of your many victories against the arachnida will most certainly make for interesting retelling in the great halls. It is but a shame that one of your defeats will be by my hand. If only my Queen had not determined your people must be put back in their place for their own wellbeing. We would have worked together as one to force the Coven back from their insipid arrogance and terror across the galaxy.”

“Much praise from a creature I’ve never met. I must admit, in all my long years of fighting the bugs, I’ve never heard of you. Care to explain for me? Perhaps it will be a great part of my epic?”

A tinny ticking was heard, laughter, “We are, best to say... older Sisters of the arachnida, we’ve been busy with the Coven so we let them reign over this part of space, it appears, just like having a younger uncaring brother run the family business, this was a bad idea.”

“Bad idea? Your retard ‘brother’ destroyed the Petolemaics, used them as slaves in mines until they die, and attacked us without warning or reason, not to mention attacked perhaps even more species we don’t know about. This a bit more than a mistake, you let a rabid dog into the hen house.”

“Once this war over we will keep them on a tighter leash, which should be very soon.”

“Yeah? Well I’ll see you at the peace negotiations, with you sighing the unconditional surrender a the remains of Klendathu.” 

“Do not be so confident, don’t think we’d rush in headlong like our foolish kin. Earth itself is under siege from a force that outnumbers even your combined fleet. If my reports are correct, we already have landed and have taken approximately 10% of the landmass. If you surrender, you will be treated as prisoners of war and treated well and under the guides of your geneva convention.”

A lot was running through Rico’s mind at this news. Most certainly it was the only news he had gotten since the communications blackout. He was worried about his family, hoping they had taken that vacation he suggested as soon as possible. But he knew his duty. “While that is a kind offer, it’s too early to be giving up. How would my saga end? If it weren’t in glory?”

“But we have Earth? Why would you fight when your homeworld is all but ours?”

“Why would you fight when we blew up Klendathu? You're underestimating how stubborn we Terrans can be. From the sound of it you seem to think taking Earth, which I doubt you will accomplish totally, will be the end of it. It won't be. There’s more than enough colonies out there to rebuild our armies and fleets, and the more desperate you make us, the harder we fight, the more allies we call, the more lost brothers and former enemies we align ourselves with. Remember this Ro. The arachnids, they weren’t an ideological, societal, or military threat, they were an existential one. We will die fighting to the last man if it means having the slight possibility of victory. Will you fight to the last just because your brothers were stupid?”

There was a long pause at the other end of the microphone, before the voice came back, “Very well General Rico. This has been a most pleasant chat. We will be speaking again shortly.”

“Yeah go right ahead, you know right where to find me.”

~[==|==]~

Central Terran Federation, Earth, Tsaritsyn, Russia 2666GS/2338AD April 20

Sergeant Tanya Lorenzo looked out over the Volga river from her position, as the roar of the guns washed away the natural sounds of the world. The bugs had arrived two days ago in small numbers of firefry scouts, most of the heavy stuff like the tankers and scorpions had been slowed by Rasputitsa, the season of mud. Most of the bug army had been bogged down in deep mud since they landed, warriors, tankers, it didn’t matter, only a select few highly mobile bugs managed to even get to the river in time before defenses were made, and were quickly seen off. Hell even their flyers were doing badly as the constant rain water logged the firefries and hoppers who were used to dusty arid weather and deserts. The endless steppes also proved a good asset, as even wheeled vehicles on highways had the effect of making Russia seem endless. Moving purely by their own power, and relying on sabotaged highways and roads, the bugs were finding the advance more difficult than expected, and were trying their best to adapt as quickly as possible. 

Of course, the Terrans were barely faring better. The Rasputitsa, while helping, also hurt their own movement, the destruction of the Chernobyl Reactor by the infiltrators had resulted in a large part of Ukraine in the Pripyat area being nearly uninhabitable thanks to their meddling, it would take months to clean up the radiation and resettle the population after radiation treatments. The influx of refugees made road travel problematic, and the trains were packed going both ways, only the airborne WASP troopers, the Mobile Infantry who had access to air transport, and the local militia and Russian Federation army units were present in force. Thankfully it was just enough to stop the bugs from taking a beach head before the rest of the army arrived with ammo and heavy gear.

Tanya had been deployed to the southern floodplains, particularly the province of Tsaritsyn. Her flight had started the first day mopping up bug scouts, destroying the odd unmarked foot bridge, and generally being miserable in the rain and mud. In the strategic sense, only the Tsaritsyn province was crossable in any feasible time frame, but with the bugs so slowed, and the river banks so soggy, the bugs were finding a very befuddling problem that they were unprepared for. They had taken only minor population production centers in russia, with the population being evacuated as soon as the first terrorist attacks occurred. In that they found little opposition other than partisans until they reached the river, and by then their frontal scouts had outpaced the horde by a good margin, and had been destroyed in the flat featureless terrain with WASPs and aircraft reigning supreme for the first few months. Looking across the river now, the failed attempts from spiders to make a webbing bridge were still visible from last night. Lieutenant said they’d get over eventually whether they wanted them to or not, the question of it was how much did the bugs know of the local geography to make use of it.

Looking at the butchery before her, she doubted they’d be able to affect any crossing without air cover, and right now the Mobile Infantry ruled the skies despite the harsh weather. As that thought passed, leaving a smile on her lips. Looking out over the banks of the Volga, a few feet from the water, she thought she saw something in the water, “SERGEANT LOOK OUT!” One of the troopers yelled as the river exploded upwards as ripplers shot out of the water into the skies. 

“Shit! Get back to the Wasps!” Tonya yelled as she ran to her WASP II, buckling in, jetting into the air immediately. The ripplers firing darts at her and her men, killing a few of her soldiers even as they raced back to their craft. 

She returned fire, swatting a bug immediately out of the air, as her Punisher cannon roared. She finally had a moment to check the river for more easy to hit targets as anti air cannons began to fire on the intruding bugs and push them below their flight level. 

From the bank’s vegetation, Spider bugs had emerged and they were rapidly assembling a web bridge. She readied to dive on one of the eight legged monsters when the bugs began their own artillery barrages. Blue plasma fired from their own positions miles away in the mud, “Someone get on the horn and let command know they’re attacking again!” She called to one of her troopers. She was thinking of perhaps diving own and firing her grenade launcher to destroy that bridge, but something felt off.

Way off, in fact she thought she may have gotten punched in the gut. Looking down she saw a rippler spike had pierced the canopy of her WASP, and entered her abdomen, and she was now starting to feel the pain of the acid eating away at her internals through the adrenaline. “Fuck.” Was the only way she could manage to summarize her situation, as her WASP unit began to idle down as she entered shock with her powersuit doing its best to keep her conscious enough to land. She had maybe a minute before she started to have major blood loss, immediately she grabbed the spike and pulled it out painfully, renewed bleeding occurred, and her suit dispensed coagulants to help staunch the bleeding. Taking a small rubber like rod, the Federation had developed equipment for just this case, and she inserted it deep into the wound. To say it was painful would be an understatement, but she would live to limp back to base and get proper medical treatment. The rod and suit had solutions to dissipate the acid to non harmful levels, but that was hardly a relieving point after feeling a good portion of her guts get dissolved in her body. Once that was done she just had to figure out how to land a two handed craft with one arm… in combat… can’t be too hard. That was until something landed on the front of her WASP.

Looking up she saw a rippler looking at her, she did not want to move, or say anything, but when she saw it looking at the jets she just about screamed, “DON’T YOU DARE!”

It shot a venom laced dart into the turbine and a moment later it made the noise you never want to hear from a jet turbine, the bug flew off as she was forced to fight for control of the WASP as it headed downward toward the city “FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUUUUU-” She screamed as she lost altitude immediately, and ended up crashing through a stained glass of a church.

To Be Continued


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Edited by a person of many names Blood Raven AKA TimedRaven117. Go check out his story Mass Effect: X-Com Theory!

~[==|==]~

Central Terran Federation, Earth, Tsaritsyn, Russia 2666GS/2338AD April 20

Tanya’s ears were ringing as everything around her came back into focus, she crashed through a roof, she knew that, and the floor beneath her view was stonework of some kind. Confused, she reached for the screen controls and undid the seat belt causing her to come Tumbling out of her cockpit after opening the screen, Tanya groaned in both self pity and pain as she started to slowly pick herself up. Looking at her bird it had landed upside down and was caught in the many flexible metal trusses that had made up the stained glass roof of what she would guess once had been a church. Looking Through the newly made roof access she could see tracer fire, smoke, needles, and fire. ‘Well at least i wasn’t out that long” she reassured her self

Staggering to her feet, she decided she needed to leave now, she didn’t know why, she just had a feeling she just needed to fucking go, unsteadily she took a step toward the door but upon closer inpection she saw it had been barricaded with the pews most likely by a preist trying to keep the war out side, by the looks of it they were good with a hammer and she had a feeling that she wasn’t getting out that way. Turning back she saw her WASP was a no go, totally wrecked, the wing had been sheared off, and the other turbolift fan was currently jammed with a metal truss.

Moaning in pain she moved next the Wasp and sat down pulling her rucksack out of the vehicle though being upside down result in everything spilling out on the floor the carton of red and blue tipped cigarettes landing on the top of the mess. She paused for a moment, before doing something she’d never have thought to do if she were sound of mind, but right now she felt tired , most likely had some internal bleeding from some of her organs being dissolved and was in lots of pain. She reached down and pick out red tipped one and lifted off her helmet, already a VERY stupid thing, and taking the cigarettes in her lips, she used her standered issue lighter to lit it up.

[Soundtrack: Bubbles - Bidibodi Bidibu ]

To say it was surreal, was… a word. Everything got tinged blue, like how one’s long ago memories get tinted. Looking around, she saw things she never noticed before, the murals on the walls, the sconces that had been made electric hundreds of years ago, the pulpit that was precariously close to having been smashed by the crashed WASP. 

Looking up to the battle above, it was like looking at a war in heaven. She could count the bullets being fired into a bug as it exploded into confetti, she saw the bug swarms starting to push again while her Wasp trooper possible her own birds rammed against them making multicolored fire-blossoms. She saw so much in so little time she blinked and started to rub her eyes. Looking down to do so, she saw her helmet glowing blue, confused she put her helmet back on only to her cry over the radio.

“Fire, mission: Three, zero, Nine! Church, fire, for, effect.” It came out slow, almost painfully slow, each syllable was announced crisply and professionally. She could even hear a rhythmic beat in the background of the-

Uh oh.

Mooking fast, she picked up her rucksack shoved her shit in it and grabbed quick deploy rife from the side of the WASP. She was counting the seconds for the first shells to land here. It would take 30 seconds for the guns to be aimed, loaded, and fired at the very earliest. Searching around the building had to have a storm bunker, many of the Russian buildings had them thanks to the Great Disorders. The Asian Hegemony would commonly conduct long range bombing missions into Russian territory. Turning she saw stairwell glowing the same blue her helmet had admitted 

“This shit is too fucking strange.” She muttered as she ran for and entered the stairwell behind the main altar. Looking down the steps she counted she had 25 more seconds. Just simply jumping down the stairs instead of walking as she flying sidekicked the door down and entered the wine and storage cellar for the Church.

The hues of pretty colors and splinters as the wooden door buckled under her armor assisted kick made her pause for a valuable second as she watched them flutter in the air. And entering the cellar did little to calm her sudden fascination with the scenery.

Almost without noticing she walked to the hidden bomb shelter door, and found the realise hidden behind bottle which had started glowing blue opening it, she found the main shelter empty but with it leading to a tunnel elsewhere. The entire town must have secret underground crypts that people repurposed into a subterranean network of tunnels. She’d seen some wicked documentaries about the Disorders where they explored tunnels like these. They were typically dangerous though from lack of maintenance. However, she didn't have much choice with five seconds left, taking the opportunity she closed the door and embarked down the rabbit hole.

To say it was trippy would be an understatement, Alice would wonder what drugs she was on as she embarked on a psychedelic adventure through the tunnels of the town. It was after following the occasional blue glow and listening the thundering of the ceiling like congo drums stopped, and the dead music of her radio for half an hour that she managed to finally find an exit that led outside of town, terminating to a hidden bunker on the top of a hill behind enemy lines. Stepping out her cigarette had finally burnt out and she looked over the city that had now been nearly flattened. Only a few towers of mankind stood as dilapidated wrecks of what they once were.

What she saw made her jaw drop in amazement at her luck.

Now with some sense of lucidity she turned on her radio, “Come on you peace of junk...“ She cursed as she initially got only static, then finally, “Hello? This is Sergeant Tanya Lorenzo, no time to explain but I got sight on an overseer bug.” 

“Sergeant? You're alive?” 

“Order in the comms private! This is artillery command, can we link visual?!” 

“I think it still works hold on.” Messing with her helmet she finally linked her camera to their receiver. 

“Getting visual now. Alright, we have them lined up, prepare for some fireworks!” As soon as he said that the thunder of renewed artillery fire flashed over the horizon, her helmet targeted and tracked the artillery shells and predicted their trajectory, with her added visual assistance the shells autocorrected. The rippling explosion of dozens of shells ripped into the overseer and its entourage of weird looking bug assistants. Immediately the bug’s went into disarray and panic.

“Direct hit! Good job Sergeant, think you can get out of there?”

Tanya paused for a moment before speaking, “I think, I was on an acid trip for the last hour. I have no idea where I am, and the bunker tunnels I went through felt like getting put through a rabbit hole. Can I just get a pick up please?” 

Static filled the line before half a dozen voices spoke, “What?”

~[==|==]~

Eastern Federation, Shanxi system, Orbit of Shanxi, FNS MIT-SC-943058376 AKA “Star Catcher II: Electric Boogaloo” 2666GS/2338AD April 25

Tribune Jake Silva looked at the general with a mark of fury that would intimidate a man of lesser rank, “What do you mean I’m to take my force toward some no name farm world in bum fuck nowhere?!” He demanded in rage.

The man could only rub his eyes as he explained, "Silva I know you wanted to head to central, everyone’s come to the same agreement, we need you here, you’re the only force worth half a damn in the East and if we lose you we lose all of our mobile reserves and transports to supply you. And that’s just something that can’t happen during this Refugee crisis. What happens if we get a Batarian raid on these people? What do you think we can say to the grieving families? ‘I’m sorry, we had the men to protect you but we sent them to central to retake Earth instead.’ That looks bad for us all. You and you men have to come to terms, we don’t all get what we want, and we all have a place in this war. If it’s protecting civilians from four eyed raids, it’s protecting them from four eyed raids.”

“Bull shit, they haven’t accepted were getting our asses kicked as bad as we are. More lives than those refugees rests upon retaking Earth. Or is it because my regiment is made up of non Terrans?”

“I admit the xenos in your ranks is an extenuating circumstance Tribune. We have solid intel, I promise you Silva your regiment won’t remain unblooded in this war….” 

“Solid Intel? Don’t give me that FUCKING BULLSHIT! I got stuck on Klendathu for nearly a decade because of ‘solid intel’!” Silva just about screamed as he slammed his closed fist in the bulkhead, the attentive could hear the crack as he damaged his pinky knuckle, already it was bruising a deep black.

By this point the general had enough of his shit, “We currently have nearly 500 MILLION refugees flooding into the Eastern fringe, 50% of them are children for fucks sake, their parents sending them off while their entire family who can, enlists. And this is just the first WAVE. Tell me, do you think those fucking slavers will just stand back while the moment of a lifetime appears before their eyes? Do I need to explain to you the psychology of a child under slavery conditions?!” He stood up, growing frustrated as he knocked over his chair and he planted his hands on the holographic map of the entire Federation, “Are you still that mad dog corporal on fucking Big K?! You can’t run your regiment like a rag tag bunch of drifters anymore Tribune! You. Are. A. Commissioned. FUCKING. Officeeeeeeer, of the Federation, you have your orders, YOU HAVE YOUR DUTY! Do it, make the best of your roll, or your regiment may never be given another role ever again!”

Silva looked stunned for a fraction of a second, it was likely he had been so busy he had not read the civic reports, he knew the man had a daughter, a daughter just like many of the children being sent here, just like many of those who lied to enlist a few years early, “I told my legion they were heading to Earth herself, are you really going to make me a liar? Because I have enough contacts to make sure you go down with me!”

The general took a deep breath, settling his own rage as Silva did his, he could see it in the black haired man’s eyes, those wild brown eyes of a war struck survivor, he was accepting his fate, now they must move through the motions, “Tribune, I can’t help you with this, Admiral Chavez may have forgiven you for cutting her arm off, but she has to abide by the government like everyone else. She has her orders straight from Earth itself. Earth won’t miss 3,000 troopers, no matter how well trained. She has a billion brave souls under arms in the entire star system. You aren’t the only Tribune I’m telling this too, you’re merely the first.”

“Should have cut off both her arms.“ He muttered in what was close enough to defeat.

Righting his chair the general felt useless, he knew what Silva was feeling the exact same way right now, but he had seen the intelligence reports. Heard the divination straight from the clairvoyants mouth’s. And the Tribune’s role was no small one, “Listen…. Jake, I know you're not happy about this. I shouldn’t be divulging this information but you will be hearing it soon. The Batarians are going all in, we count nearly a thousand pirates and slaver ships gathering.” 

“Doubt it. There's no way they’d be so organized so quickly.”

“Believe it, we have credible reports from STG and Military Intelligence in the border regions. You’d have to be Luigi Cadorna to miss this.”

Jake looked thoughtful for a moment before sitting back down and hitting the map to focus on the Eastern Fringe, “Go on.” He demanded with a flourish of his hand.

The general sat back down and produced a thumb drive, it held very little in common with the 21st century data storage device other than the name. Inserting it into the table the holographic stage moved over to the Attican Traverse and Outer Batarian space. Immediately Silva’s eyes widened slightly, “Impossible.” He mouthed.

“We believe they’re going all in. At least a thousand vessels, most of them are citadel light cruiser classification, only a single dreadnought class. We’re unsure if the Hegemony itself is behind this, if they have any control over the beast they created, or if they’re facing a wide scale mutiny among their agents as they seize upon this aforementioned chance of a lifetime.”

“The clairvoyants unclear as usual?

“More like mixed signals. Keep in mind the Hegemony’s bureaucracy and caste system is vast, I wouldn’t be surprised if one hand didn’t know what the other was doing sometimes. But anyways we have no direct connection of Hegemonic naval or intelligence vessels in any of the systems the pirates or slavers share. Barely a peep on the comm buoys either. It looks legitimately that this is the pirates acting on their own. 

Silva looked thoughtful, “Slavers and pirates… not the foe I was expecting, some of my Batarian boys may be a bit antsy, but I know they’ll do it if I ask. Besides these are hardly legal opposition forces.” 

“They fly under no flag, therefore they're illegal combatants, on par with unaffiliated militia and terrorists. The rules of war don’t need to be applied to these individuals. However surrenders are to be honored.” 

“Is that an order?” 

“Ass covering mostly. The politicos and high command couldn’t give a rats ass if you toasted them with a flamethrower. Press may or may not like it, and the Citadellians would certainly be a bit miffed.”

“I’ll give them a story to remember sir. So what's the name of the world I’ll be heading to?”

“Kamulon. Recently refugees have been directed there by Admiral Tromblay.”

“Kamulon, a bastardization of the celtic god of war Camulus. For every day they waste our time there, I’ll ensure the pirates know the price they pay for keeping an Eagle from its nest.”

~[==|==]~

Southern Terran Federation, 2666GS/2338AD April 25

T’Phai shook his head, “You're not going to Earth.” He repeated to the traitor Projak.

“Am I now?” He asked with a genuinely bemused tone. 

“I have my reasons, I don’t know the discipline of your fleet, and I most certainly know that they don’t know the efficient route to there, and I’d rather not baby them all the way to Earth. Besides, you’re men would be wasted there.”

“So then what are you going to do with me?” Projak asked with a smile. 

T’Phai turned way towards the tactical screen that covered an entire wall of a briefing room fit for a platoon. “I’m sending you west to help Rico, he’ll need your assistance, he has the bulk of the Mobile Infantry under his command, and he’ll know how to turn the tide in our favor.”

“Ah yes the fabled hero of the Federation, while I admit the prestige of saving him from whatever bind he is in is tempting, is my fleet not enough to win this war on its own? He’s dead for all we know.” Projak asked a not inconsiderable question.

T’Phai turned around to answer it, “I doubt that greatly. He doesn't have near death experiences anymore, death has near Rico experiences. The bugs have emerged from the Sol relay at pluto, in order to reach that they would need to have come through the Arcturus Line that has been discovered. As you know, Arcturus leads to Tesla’Vir. Which is in the south. As we speak Rico is holding the line in the West, which has seen no breakthroughs into Central, and had no indication of a buildup.”

Projak had it dawn on him and he smiled, “So just as they used the relays to sneak attack Earth, so too did they use relays to move their forces from the West, through the South. How well mapped is the relay network?”

“Not very. We believe now they destroyed the MilInt Spy satellites staking out the relays. Not even I have the clearance to learn more than possibly that.” T’Phai admitted. “I believe sending you west to relieve Rico, get any intelligence he may have, and then coming in behind them through a relay, we cut off their escape, and we can perhaps shatter their fleet. Force them to perhaps come to an agreement.”

Projak smiled, “It’s but a shame we never met before all this. I believe we could have been fast friends. I’ll make my departure immediately. Give those long legged bastards a good bloody fight T’Phai, I’ll see Rico’s troopers come in right behind me and shatter those bugs on the beaches.” Projak spoke sincerely, “Remember T'Phai, I was born on Earth, I don’t want to see it lost any more than any other Human does. Good luck.” With that the comm line disconnected and he got a report that his fleet was transiting out of the rally point.

T’Phai looked to the rest of his staff and nodded, “Well I wish you luck too Traitor General. A traitor to the Federation! But not to its people.”

~[==|==]~

Western Federation, The Rousha System 2666GS/2338AD April 30

The Rousha system was quiet, the merchant and Black ships that had once used it as a bypass to get from one side of the Federation to the other in a fraction of the time had been run out of by the new owners of the system. The bugs had kept a small fleet here to maintain control of the relay, ships were either sent to the front line holding the western forces of the Federation in place, or to the Sol system where they were helping with the siege of Earth or raiding the nearby planets to disrupt coordination and intelligence gathering. 

The Pseudo commander here was happy with his his task, but was growing antsy, each day they remained here was another day the Federation could regroup and get lucky and find him, cutting off his queen from reinforcements. But he had been bred for this war as a logistical worker, he himself had no worries about fighting, but making sure the fighters could do their invaluable work was his life’s goal, dream, and purpose. It was what he was meant for, and he excelled at it. 

Every day he sent the barbarian arachnids through the relay to feed the empire’s war machine, force breeding them by the tens of thousands to be used as fodder in the war. Every day he heard reports of victories and gains on the Terran homeworld. No doubt they would sooner break the Terran world before the stubborn Humans would accept their demands. He heard many rumors about what they were going to do. The hard liners wanted to burn all of the Terran colonies and trap the Humans on their home world without the ability to ever leave. Others wanted to be a bit kinder, they wanted the Terrans as a client state. 

Most found those options impractical, and when the Queen was asked she would always smile and reveal nothing but the cryptic, “It would be unsporting to eliminate a new player so early.” Their type of government was much too fluid for having them as a client, their meritocratic systems, and diplomatic relations with other major nations mean they would zealously fight for autonomy, this made client status impossible. 

The most lenient punishment was a return to pre war lines, they wanted the”West” back, including Klendathu. It was the bare minimum to be considered a victory, so it was the last possible option, he personally preferred using the retrovirus, he had met a few of the retros and found them to be highly capable and driven individuals who strove for the greater good with all the zealotry and fury as could be expected. 

As he smiled at the thought of a greater pseudo-arachnid empire, the relay activated. He went to check who was coming when black ships began to pour out of the relay by the dozens. Some ships looked Terran, and most of their designs seemed to stall as they got in range of the magnetic shift interdictor fields, but the other ships ranged in make and just kept coming, unleashing fire into the bug forces around the relay. In shock the bug commander watched as his small guard fleet was overrun and scattered, the transports and light battlewagons crumpling and retreating as they faced the overwhelming odds. But he soon gathered his wits, and sent out an emergency warning to be carried by his fleet, to be brought to the forces fighting the Federation. He needed more forces here if he was going to hold this system from this black tide. However he knew he would never get them, and he sat upon his chair with but a sad thought he would never serve his queen again, as his ship blew up a moment later when the the black cross Indomitable a captured batarian light dreadnought, annihilated his command battlewagon with a quartet of dreadnought scale slugs, retrofitted with Terran tech it was its first kill since arriving in system and began to clean up what was left of the bugs who once controlled the solar system.

~[==|==]~

[Soundtrack: Globus - Preliator]

Lord General Red Halloran drank from the goblet one of his retinue brought him as he watched the enemy fleet burn, “Well don’t they burn a pretty color?” He commented with an amused smile, “Any word about their reinforcements?”

The sensor’s commander reported from his pulpit to the left of the massive command bridge, “Negative sir, we seemed to have caught them off guard, outer scout pickets report we’re the only ships for the next 10 light years, it’ll take several hours for the bugs to even realize they’ve been flanked.”

“Allow the survivors to escape through the relays to Earth, but kill any who try to rally the other fleets around here. I want the raiders in our turf to know the true meaning of a crusade! Let the bug forces at Earth come to us.” Red declared with a fiery vigor that had been missing for years.

“Yes sir! The ship captains will be pleased with their duty.” His communications adjutant announced with an equal level of excitement.

Red’s plan was simple, cut off the bugs main resupply corridor. He was from Earth, many of his people had family who still lived on Earth. Even if they hadn’t been seen for decades, such ties could not be forgotten. The message received by Rico had sent the entire Black Cross into a headspin of both adulation and horror. And when confirmed reports of the bug counter attack arrived just a day after Rico had first sent the message, they knew they had to move swiftly, the few hundred ships under Red’s command this day were but a tenth of his total force, but the rest were busy in other parts of the Demesne and could not be spared. But the forces he gathered were the elite, and they would honor the deal Rico had offered. 

He wished he could bring the fight to the bugs themselves on Earth but he lacked the forces to even contemplate such a strike.

But everyone here had volunteered for this duty, and everyone would gladly die for it.

This was not without risk, Rico could easily be punished and court martialed for an unsanctioned negotiations with the Black Cross, and a full third of his Chapter Generals officially dissented the move. But the rest had agreed, it was a risk worth taking. The chance for an end of the chase, to become respected, even to gain grudging respect of the people would be enough.

~[==|==]~

Northwestern of the Northern Federation, Battleship Sol 2666GS/2338AD May 4

Edmund looked at the footage of another Terran city being raised by mechs with seething anger, “Losses?” He asked with a threateningly calm voice. 

His aide was unintimidated, “Beyond that one, that is the third minor colony that has been destroyed. Casualties are light considering, only fifty million. Evacuation has already begun to the East and to more well protected worlds. Admiral Chavez reports she cannot spare any more escorts then she has already sent. And the-”

“-Governors are screaming for help.” He finished for him, sighing heavily to clear his mind of rage, “Goddamn It, either he’s been planning this for a while or he’s one hell of an opportunist.

“How would he have found that out?”

“It doesn’t take a genius to figure out something's happening, it’s been awhile since Earth got hit, they’re smart, they likely tapped into our guilder wave relays a long time ago. Right now they know we're cut off, and we have to consolidate what we can. We have the bulk of fleet assets and active duty MI here to deter them. But we lost a quarter of our fleet assets to reassignment as soon as we lost comms with central, and we’ve been scrambling to try and cover their patrols with what we have left. Even with contraction of territory thanks to their raids we were too spread out. And now we’re stuck in an impasse, we have the bulk of the fleet and army assets to assist central and take the fight to Earth. But if we leave we lose most of the north, its resources, and industrial assets. It’ll be a death knell blow to the Federation if we lose the battle for Earth as well as the North.” 

“And who knows how far the Prophet will go into Central territory if we fall?” 

“Exactly. Our civilians are scared, our ship captains are scared, and our grunts on the ground are uneasy. Even the marines are showing signs of wavering.” He sat back in his chair and sighed heavily. “We can only hope on one of our enemies to talk another one of our enemies into giving us a break. Damned if I say it, but the fate of the Federation may very well be in Covenant and Republican hands.”

“.....” His aide relaxed in a chair as well, pulling out a flask from an inner coat pocket, “Thimble sir?”

“..... Yeah, not like I’m going to be able to do anything. Everyone is in their place, it’s just a matter of buying time for the evacuation. And they don’t need me breathing down their necks for that.” Edmund finally decided, taking a set of glass shot glasses out of his desk drawers and flipped two out.

His aide filled them both with a liquorice black liquor. Both taking a shot they raised them in cheers and sipped their respective drinks. The smoky bourbon and bitter taste of liquorice assaulted his tongue, the sensation lingered on his tongue, numbing it a bit. A popular beverage in the Northern colonies, mixing a very weak oral anesthetic with the drink. 

“Another Northern Tongue Twister sir?” His aide asked as they lounged in their seats.

“I’d like that.” Sliding his glass over to his aide who was pouring another shot when his view screen started blinking with a call. Turning around he accepted the call, “Admiral Tromblay of the Northern Colonies speaking.”

“Admiral Tromblay, this is Grand Admiral Vincent Lopez of the Terran Republic. I’m here to offer you assistance.” Edmund looked to his aide who looked at him with a nonchalant shrug. 

Suddenly his station alarms went off. An incoming fleet was arriving, “How many ships are you bringing Vincent?” He asked warily.

“All of them Admiral. All of them.” 

Immediately a side panel lit up, “Admiral! We have a Republican fleet coming in! At least 6,000 ships inbound, most of Coven make sir!” More reports coming in detailing them. 6,000 ships was not a small fleet. Indeed, he actually sat up and started to regret taking that shot. 6,000 ships was almost equal to the number of ships he had lost to reinforce the central colonies.

“Admiral Lopez. Will you submit to subordination to my command staff for the duration of your expeditionary term?” Tromblay asked with a sudden seriousness to his voice.

“In strategic terms of course. Send us where you need us, my scouts already report the Colony of Koenigs Landug is under assault and the corvette garrison heavily besieged. I’m requesting to detach my 15th strike group to that location.” Lopez reported with a kick to his voice that made Edmund smile.

“Admiral, permission granted! Connect with comms node two and ask for situation update and garrison relaying. We were trying to contact our frontline, with you here I may actually have some hope we won’t lose more planets.” Edmund ordered with gusto.

“Understood Tromblay. A lot of my men are chomping at the bit to return to Earth. They want to see the homeworld free from the bug invader.” Lopez asked politely as a few hundred ships started to break away and enter light speed once more.

“I can’t guarantee that, but I can guarantee I’ll try my damndest.” 

To be continued


	9. Of Cerberus and Mars

Edited by a person of many names Blood Raven AKA TimedRaven117. Go check out his story Mass Effect: X-Com Theory!

~[==|==]~

Undisclosed Location 2666GS/2338AD March 29th

Jack Harper sat in his chair, smoking a cuban. The bug invasion had been an unfriendly surprise and it had taken everything he had not to panic. He wanted to send everything under his control to help the Federation, but in the grand scheme of things, his small amount of quick reaction cells and ships would be a drop in a barrel with what Federation and the other big players were putting towered the war effort. So he had done the next best thing. He fixed things in the Federations favor. He contacted the skinnies and let them know what was going on. Yeah he gambled a lot of Human lives in the south but he had faith in one thing when came to the skinnies, they hate the bugs more than the Terrans. And from what he was hearing it was paying off, hell the damned traitor-general himself had even come out of hiding in the traverse to stop the bugs, guess he couldn’t call him a coward in his reports anymore. 

He used his contacts to facilitate the movement of information to anyone who could help, mainly trying to counter the small power grab by the central colonies. He worried what their plan was there, it was a fairly obvious power grab since there had been maybe three other governor primes who had not come from earth. The last 100 years it was an unintentional rigging in the system, Earth, and including the rest of Sol, had the biggest population in the entire Federation, holding nearly 50% of the nation, at nearing 20 billion souls. And therefore they had more governors then there were colonies. He could see how the colonies might want a chance to get their time in the sun, even after the sector partitioning organized after the Skinnie War to decentralize governing to a more local level. Hopefully that was all, but… he wondered if this Charles Edinburgh had anything to do with the attempts to spread element zero… 

He had no idea what was happening in the West however. The blackout there was still all encompassing with his agents still failing to report back. The South was rallying, and the East was spoiling for a fight, but their only real formations, the Legion, were getting orders to remain where they were. Charles probably did not like the idea of the Legion traipsing through his territory. And the North… some fuck was stirring the pot, in the last few weeks he had to cut almost all trade there that wasn’t refugee evacuation. Ships upon ships of weapons heading to every malcontent fuck up in the region, revolutionaries, nationalist, xenophobes, xenophiliacs, democratic advocates, and assholes with chips on their shoulders. And he was sure he was not getting them all. Someone was capitalizing on the war to stir up rebellion in the North, but why? He had no idea at the moment, but he had a bad feeling it had something to do with what the clairvoyants were seeing. Who ever it was wanted to start something up there sooner or later. He hoped whatever it was happened after the war. Because if it started now they could kiss Northern support goodbye. And then there was the Batarians. They had realized much too late their piratical strategy had failed spectacularly, and were attempting to rectify this matter by using their own pirates as a proxy to then annihilate and claim to be the heros. Quite clever actually if it wasn’t for the fact that he could count on almost a thousand spies and millions of psykers. 

It was going to be a disaster, he’d already sent orders to send the Legion to affected worlds. And he knew this would only lead the two powers closer to war once this one had ended. This would likely make Admiral Tromblay happy. The abolitionist was a danger to himself, knowingly sending refugees to a contested planet in order to seize it was a recipe for conflict. He was only lucky the Batarians were willing to take the opportunity by killing off all their pirates and worthless merc companies. The Batarians were cleaning house and moving their own military rapidly to fill the gaps through conscription into their colonial authority. Tromblay was either a bigger idiot than he thought, or much more coldly calculating than predicted. He shook his head, he needed to calm down about this shit or he may really kill some bastard who didn’t really need killing. Taking a swig of his coffee he puffed another time on his cigar.His phone rang and he reached for it, “Speaking.”

“Jack, it’s Ben, damn glad I finally got through to you, we’ve got another problem.”

“What kinda problem Ben?” He had a feeling he wouldn’t like what he was about to hear, Ben’s current assignment was keeping an eye on the Black Cross to make sure they didn’t make too much trouble.

“The Cross is on the move, and I mean all of them. My agents just reported Lord General Red Halloran has called all his Chapter Generals to a meeting last night. All of them, even those who would normally be in deep cover. I haven’t gotten confirmation on what the purpose of the meeting is but, it was prompted by a letter from the Federation arriving and I quote ‘collectively caused everyone in earshot to shit themselves.’ followed by cries of ‘renewal’.”

“Do we have any idea what was in that letter, or who it was from?” Jack asked.

“Nope, but whatever it is, it got them into a tizzy. Big conclave, everyone of import from ship captain all the way up, it’s a literal drop what you’re doing and report in situation. You know, our Code Black kind of shit. Everyone is heading to their HQ for this conclave where they’re to vote on something.”

“They have to have told the captains something big to get even half of them them to move. Hell. half of them aren’t even Human at this point so I doubt they have the strictest loyalty.”

“Normally yeah, but a codeword is going throughout their entire channel, ‘Forgiven Crusade’. If my reports are telling the truth this is… Big.”

“You're kidding me?…” Jack clucked his tongue and almost scoffed, “They do know they’re not a religious order right?”

“Technically crusade means ‘war of the cross’, so since they’re the Black Cross, that kinda works. But that's not the big thing. Forgiven Crusade is their codeword for an opportunity at legitimization, and with the invasion of Earth…”

“I… okay… alright keep tabs on them, I need to know if they're going to stab the Federation in the back or if they’re coming in with wings on their back.”

“Got it. Hey Jack, any news from earth?”

“No, the situation has not changed noticeably.” He lied, sometimes it was better to not know what was happening then to know. “Sorry man, can’t get a read on your family, but they’re safe with the agents, I know it. And Ben, stay safe and good luck” 

“You got it Jack.”

Jack sat back in his chair and looked up to the roof of his office, the Black cross was moving. What next, space cthulhu? Shaking his head he turned to look out the window… and all that looked back was empty space. He decided he needed to get something bigger and grander to look at, because the inky blackness of space was just not mentally stimulating. Sighing out a puff from his cigar, he picked up the next report he had. It was from Eva Core, talking about a sighting of an unknown ship that had almost no life support systems detected near the galactic core, it had been sighted leaving the area of an independent colony of Turians and Quarians. Having received a tip from the Migrant Fleet from one of its pilgrims on the world. 

The planet’s inhabitants had been… butchered to the last child. It made bile rise in his throat as he saw the pictures of the colony afterwards. It was the blood, it was everywhere, gore, blood, some of the hallways were just covered in smears of it. And that was only the tip of the iceberg, looking through the rest of the document he stopped a quarter of the way through. He would be swapping out the team with a fresh one, giving the last one some quality time on Shanxi with a bar full of beer, a bordello next door, and a therapist in the room at all times.

Equally worrying was the local ecology had been thoroughly ravished by crudely constructed factories that had since been abandoned, the landscape burned and churned up of organic matter. Graffiti in Turian Saria and Quarian Migrant Script did not paint a pretty picture of the “Flesh Factories”. It didn’t sound like or work like the monsters they had seen at the monoliths, but whatever it was, it was extremely dangerous, so he sent the go ahead to track this thing at a distance. He didn’t have the ship assets to bring whatever this might be down right now thanks to the war. But the Turians and Quarians certainly had the connections and ships. And both would likely be eager to know what had done this to their people, independent or not.

Jack signed the documents to release this event to the Citadel Council and the Quarian Admiralty, he hesitated and then also signed off on it for it to be relayed to Aria T’Loak and Elanos Haliat. This was a threat that needed to be halted at all corners, the Terminus too would be wise to hunt them down. Downing the rest of his drink, he got up and walked over to his gun closet, a variety of war trophies and service arms greeted him as it was opened, but he pulled out his old morita Ape Maker and took it back to his desk where he began to field strip it to clean it. 

It was already pretty clean but he needed to clear his head. Things were developing in a way he did not understand, and he did not like that. the Federation was on the verge of ending its golden age, and perhaps its life, and though he had no doubt the Federation would win eventually, he was starting to fear the Federation’s independence may be at risk. No civilization could lose their capital and survive unscathed, and he doubted the Citadel would let this pass either. They meant well, but they were an all inclusive club, the insult to their prestige with the Federation refusing associate and even observer status had stung more than was first evident. It was the right choice certainly, playing hard to get had gotten the Federation a lot of things many of the other species had missed out on for centuries, particularly the technical expertise provided by the Quarians. Thinking, Jack sighed, he’d need to form a paramilitary arm of Cerberus, a small army as it were to handle matters, it’d likely have to be joint species with the Citadel, which wasn’t a bad idea, Asari commandos, Turian shock troops, Salarian saboteurs, and human troopers. That way they could act without having to depend on Federal forces, because if the Federation was in a position where she had to play nice with the Citadel, he could not count on the ability to get the forces he needed. 

~[==|==]~

Central Federation, Sol system, Mars 2666GS/2338AD May 1

Ret. Colonel Roza Bereza laid prone as she watched the bug column move across the red desert slowly. They had been raiding the bugs since they landed, trying to keep them off balance and stopping them from having a moment’s rest. Thankfully Mars was more of a sideshow compared to Earth, so they had a chance of fighting them. Though this may have come to an end as she looked down at the column and saw four walkers of possibly biomechanical design, but they were mechanical - they had blown one up half a month ago, and there were no fleshy bits after that- along with a small force of the new bugs. She’d been charged mostly with hunting the blue bitches in her time, but she had seen some action in the Bug War, everyone had at one point, so she knew these were not the normal beasts the Federation was comfortable fighting. 

“That leading walker looks stuck up. Some kind of officer?” Kobayashi asked from his position beside her. 

“Possibly… I don’t know why they’d have an elite soldier doing basic escort duty though. But the feeling I’m getting from that fucker reminds me of coven witches. If I were to guess from the apparent decoration of its staff rifle I’d say it was some kind of royal guard or elite regimental soldier...”

“They get sick of us burning their shit and unleash the big boys?”

“No… No no no… I can feel something. It’s- Oh shit, run, it’s a pskyer! It knows we’re here!”

The sound of assault rifles echoed through the desert from the south, “That’s coming from the direction Buffett's company was scouting.”

“Shit, he’s likely been found out like us.” Getting up with Kobayashi they started to sprint away with their rifles. She wish she could radio the rest of the ad hoc group but the use of a radio without a jammer to hide their origin would have tipped the bugs off for sure.

Kobayashi turned back to the ridge they had just inhabited, now covered in a squad of bugs, “They’re on us!”

Roza looked back and saw he was right, the bugs were now going toward the sound of the gun fire and to them.

Looking forward to her company at the next ridge she shouted, “Pack up! They know we’re here!” Sprinting for her horse the other militia began to fire on the bugs with their moritas, many had at least some experience with a rifle and managed to score plenty of hits against the warriors. She grabbed the saddle and began to pull herself up when she heard more gunfire this time from further east. 

“Kobayashi correct me if I’m wrong, but isn’t Ripply’s company out in the fields to get what they can?”

“Yes ma’am.” 

“I was afraid you would say that.” Putting some thought in it she cursed loudly and colorfully as she fired her reaper pistol into a nearing bug, blowing its brain stem out with a single shot. The rest of the militia were having trouble putting them down, but she expected nothing less from impressed fighters, “Shit, Kobayashi, send riders to Ripply and Buffett, tell them to retreat, full ride! Then take half the company and head north and warn as many of the other groups as possible! They’re trying to trap us in a pocket!”

“What about you ma’am?” He asked with sudden concern.

“Me? I’m going to go full sorceress on these fuckers and buy us some time!” Whooping out in courage she fired her pistol again, touching the mind of her steed to keep him calm.

Kobayashi nodded and sloppily saluted before carrying out his orders and moving out with some of the riders. 

Shouting out incoherently she rallied the men with her powers, amplifying her voice inhumanly, “Alright boys and girls! We’re going to make the MI jealous they don’t have Mars bred stallions! Mount up!”

“Ma’am? What are we going to do?”

“We’re going to charge right at ‘em! They won’t expect it!”

“YOUR FUCKING NUTS!”

“Yes Erik, and your half fucking blind! You don’t see me complaining about your zero to none hit ratio do ya? Look at it this way boys and girls! At least Erik will hit something now!” That got a couple chuckles as she looked at the bugs again.

Everyone was preparing their double barreled shotguns, pistols, and improvised pikes, “They’re in a fucking WALKER! It’s going to gun us down the moment we step over that hill!”

“No they’re not, because they're not going to make it over that hill before us. Run or charge, death is only certain if you flee!” Stirring her horse she charged forward, leveling her pike as soon as she could. Looking down she could see the bugs were just starting to climb the hill. 

“Perfect.”

“Isn’t there four walkers? I thought they only had one this area!” 

“JESUS H CHRIST ERIK! We get you're a coward now get charging or get lost.” Rosa screamed back as she urged her steed to speed up. Stretching out her hand at the hill she focused her mind… “Come on… come on…” the bugs were getting closer they had yet to see the gathered riders before them. “Come on!” She was out of practice… she was starting to worry it would not work when she felt it. A buzzing reverberating through her body, building up, her insides began to feel sick, as if they were getting hit with a constant sonic boom from artillery. Smiling wide, sound escaped between her teeth like a high powered whistle, buzzing through her metal fillings and replaced enamel prosthetics from a decade of brawls. She opened her mouth as if to laugh and the bugs started to squirm and shriek in discomfort. Then the whole hill side began to tremble as she achieved resonant harmonic and, soon the whole sandy hillside gave way as a sonic shriek of mind power forced the particles to fly apart from one another.

Spreading her hand over the entire hill line the bugs screamed in pain before a second later collapsing, bleeding from their two orifices, and others more spectacularly had their brain stem explode outward. She lowered it closer which had more dramatic effects on the bugs who had led the charge, as they now started to retreat in animalistic panic and died under her sonic scream, some so affected by it body parts exploded after directed bombardment.

An unusual usage of her psychic shriek power taught to all psykers regardless of their specialization. A power typically used for civilian suppression and riot control could easily be tuned up by an experienced psyker to deadly levels, and for a psyker of her power could even cause particles to explode away from each other. The sand dune before them collapsed under the vibrating exploding molecules and caused a sand slide down the ravine away from them. 

The first wave of bugs dead and now buried in the sand, the dune was a full meter shorter than before and growing shorter as they advanced, “CHARGE!” She mentally shouted to everyone’s mind. Her militia company saw the destruction and whooping out war cries began to chase after her. Stopping at the now non existent dune she looked down to the buried and disorganized bugs, her pike high in the air, and her screams subsided. She looked right to her opponent, the opposite pyker, it was trying to get the bugs back in order and charge them ahead. 

Mainly she reached out and struck its mind, to a power as strong as its own, it was barely a flick, but it accomplished her goals all the same, as she smiled, and she spoke in terms it would understand. Like mournful pipes, her power whistled through her teeth she built up herself again as alongside her the rest of her company formed up, getting in formation to charge down. The walkers had been knocked over or buried in the sand to their weapon mounts. Cackling like a devil, she looked to her wingman, “BURN THE BUGS!” Her final statement coming out like a commandment from god as she unleashed her power once more to the closest bugs. 

The bugs were mad as hell and charged forward, however the opponent realized its position and began to run. Nothing it would do would save it, and running provided the only option for survival.

“Can do ma’am!” Her rocketeers shouted in joy, dismounting and readying their rocket launchers. Mounting their thermobaric warheads they unleashed hell. The rocket’s propellent was slow to act, only propelling it at an unconvincing 20 MPH, however everyone turned around and galloped away with the rocketeers following close after. And behind them, a new sun erupted for a few seconds and the sound and pressure of the explosion kicked everyone hard in the lungs. Riding away, Roza’s whistling had subsided and her insides felt like shit, turning to the side she vomited her half digested lunch along with not an inconsiderable amount of blood from her esophagus and trachea, thankfully it could have been worse, she could have exploded her own insides out. She will need to get a doctor to look at her with a full body scan to make sure she'll even live, but for now she needed to see her company though the next day.

~[==|==]~

Central Federation, Sol system, Mars 2666GS/2338AD May 2nd

Roza Bereza spat the dirt out of her mouth when the shelling stopped, and peeked over the boulders. About about every raider group was stuck up here with herself. For weeks they had played a deadly game of cat mouse using every heavy weapon they could to bring down their walkers and to keep the bugs far enough away from the urban centers to give them time to prepare. It worked, until yesterday with that psionic motherfucker. Yes Kobayashi, they were getting sick of our shit. And she had to admit, their round up was textbook operation. The losses they had taken had been bad, nearly 20% across the board, and they get cornered up on a plateau with no food or water beyond what they brought with them and no ammo resupply.

She was going to ask the other leaders if they had any ideas, but everyone knew there was only one real option, break out onto the plains on the other side, and maybe there they could lose the quick moving column of bugs. But the bugs also knew that and had cut them off by establishing a base on the plateau, only way to escape the germification fields of unterraformed mars was through the Isaiah mountain range, past the plateau. So they took the plateau, pushed them off, but then bug reinforcements came in, cut us off, and started to lay siege to us. Their window of escape was closing fast, if they didn’t get out by dawn then the rate of the loss for their horses would mean a large portion of them would need to be left behind.

Looking down on the bugs, she saw more mechs and “Soldiers” then she had seen since the battle for Mars started. Man they REALLY wanted them dead- what was that? She looked up past the bugs at the nearby ridge, there was a flashing light. No not a light it was reflection … but why was coming in and out so… If she were a foe in Metal Gear Solid, she’d have a ! above her head.

“Ma’am, you look as if someone lit a fire under your ass.”

“Well metaphorically yes. You know morse code?” She asked with a smile.

“I was in the boy Scouts of America, so… kinda? I mean you’d be better off asking me to translate french that I learned in high school.” He complained as he raised his own ballgame binoculars. They lacked the power and flexibility of her snoopers but they serviced for now.

Looking at it she translated it in her head, “Maintain position, hold the line.”

“And?”

“Hold on, get me a laser pointer. Looks like they’re about to say something else.”

“Yeah?”

Once again the message came, “Herman Vash I think, whoever using that mirror doesn't know what he’s doing, it's like reading a fifth grader's homework.” 

“Know any Vash? Aren’t we the only militia working in this area?”

“Herman Vash… Herman… I think I’ve heard of him when I was deployed North, some big traditional Armored Warfare specialist, trained under General Jayasundera, she’s that person who managed to wreck a Fourth war party at the expense of an entire colony city a few years back.”

“So we got marauders coming to our rescue?”

Roza scoffed, “Maybe, but I doubt it, Vash was in charge of Jayasundera’s MBT division, I remember he was unorthodox. From what I heard, he preferred those old Ironshield MBTs to the walker forces. Never heard why though, probably just has had a soft spot for the oldies.”

“So we're going to rely on a man who uses tanks that were built for policing colonies…. Welp, we’ll have a show before we surrender then.”

~[==|==]~

The night passed with more bombardments, the mirror team stopped sending their message at some point, everyone hoped that meant they’d been called back and not that bugs had gotten them. 

As the sun rose Roza was placing a lot of trust in this Vash, either way, she may be able to use the attack as a pretext to escape. She kept her eyes on the lookout, watching for any sign of reinforcement. She was soon greeted by a grand sight.

During the night the hill across from their plateau had become dotted with mounds of dirt and at the top of those mounds were the turrets of Ironshield MBTs, painted red. 

“They must have worked throughout the night to pull that off.” Roza muttered, looking down at the bugs she noted that there seemed to be some uncertainty in their ranks, with those who could see the tanks starting to turn their mechs.

Her ear radio started to pipe up with something. It almost sounded like rock music, taking another look at the hill, she then looked around the perimeter and saw smaller makeshift towers set up, bug communications was a fairly well known subject, and they could be confused in small numbers with radio interference played at certain frequencies, “They’ve placed automated radio jammers around the bugs to make them think they're surrounded, Nice.” She whispered with a smile.

The Bugs, stuck in the valley in the low ground, prepared to stop any attack by the horse mounted militia, were not prepared for a rear attack. The guns of the tanks opened up and small caliber guns firing, quickly causing havoc in the bugs lines. Pounding some of the mechs to pieces but others had turned and were now firing their weapons at the dug in tanks. The plasma weapons of the bugs burnt some of the tanks, but their entrenchment saved those hit to merely being mission killed.

“Mount up boys and girls! They’re blasting their way through the cordon! That's our chance to escape!” Roza suddenly declared with a war cry. 

As the bug mechs began to about face and attack the rear flanking enemy, they were shot in the back by high power sporting rifles wielded by her best shots, while doing little more than annoy, it served as a perfect distraction as on the flank of the hills a wave of Cougar and Grizzly Exo Suits took to the sky on jet thrusters and landed in and among the bugs forces and unloaded heavy weapons at point black range. Breaking their cohesion, and shocking many of the soldiers and forcing the warriors to start fighting in melee. This also forced the mechs to turn in order to support the infantry who were being slaughtered in their midst.

And then came the coup de grâce, even as her militia mounted up and began to charge down, two columns of M-27 Centurion Main Battle Tank came over the hills on the sides and began to fire their heavier guns into the turning mechs to scrap metal. The tanks drove down the hill, basting the mechs to pieces, and this seemed to do the trick, as the bugs broke and routed away. Clearing the way for her militia to charge through and escape. Charging down upon her steed, Roza shouted another warcry as she saw Gecko IFV’s move up and open, ready to take those whose steeds had not made it or whose injuries were great. Directing her men as such, she immediately rode past them all, while this was a small victory, the fact they lived to fight another day was all that mattered.


	10. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Edited by a person of many names Blood Raven AKA TimedRaven117. Go check out his story Mass Effect: X-Com Theory!

~[==|==]~

Central Federation, Sol system, Earth, Hawai’i Island 2666GS/2338AD May 8

[Soundtrack: Mattia Cupelli - The World Falls]

Governor Alexander Williams looked over the map of Earth with some pride. When the bugs had first arrived, he’d been a bit worried things would be a slow grind backwards, but Earth, even at its most disorganized, was good at producing stubbornness. Brazil with barely any advanced weapons and a critical shortage of manpower, with tactics and terrain alone, plugged up the bug hoard in South America and was slowly pushing them out, careful not to give the bugs a chance to escape or break through their thin lines. Reports from Frederico were coming in about bug deaths in the millions, he doubted it was that great, but that did indicate there may be a queen down there. He needed to send a pathfinder team at some point to hunt her down if that was true. 

Africa on the other hand… well it could be doing better, the bugs were stuck out in the Sahara desert, the North African Union had managed to keep them confined, but there was no plan to get them out. Even with the decades of projects to turn back the desert and transform it into farmland, that swath of sand was nearly impenetrable to any large forces, the bugs on the other hand were supplied every day by the orbiting ships, and everyone was fearing a bug breakout to crush morocco, Libya, and Egypt. If they were lost, the Mediterranean would be wide open, and the possibility of losing the Suez and Gibraltar to them was a thought not worth bearing.

The Chinese-Mongolian Coalition were doing their damnedest to keep the bugs out of their lands, something about not losing the mandate of heaven… Now the Mongolians he could understand, their capital city and the entirety of their people were right on the front line, the Chinese states on the other hand had always been an odd ball after the Hegemony fell apart, and now that odd ballness was leading to some fanatic resistance, outright mass attack charges against the bugs in the desert and mountains on their border. They were probably losing more men doing that then would have it they stayed entrenched, but it seemed to be working surprisingly well, the few bug forces that had come at them had been turned back or butchered, and the bugs were actually reluctant to attack them, with the Soldier bugs being forced to corral and then ignite fires behind the normal bugs just to get them to attack certain sections of the line.

Everything north of the Bugs there was Bug territory, hardly inhabited, with little industrial resources after the Disorders.

Then there was the recent near disaster at Tsaritsyn Russia. The bugs had nearly managed to not just push the Federation out of it strong points in the city, but nearly made them outright rout. But by some miracle they had halted their advance into the city. However the bugs had not wasted their time, though the bugs in the city had stalled out and been pushed back across the river, soldier bugs had crossed the muck and swamp to the south of the city and managed to break their landlines. With the jamming going on, the army group holding Tsaritsyn did not find out about the amphibious invasion from the Caspian until they had nearly been surrounded. 

They managed to fall back but not without losing some of their heavy equipment. They moved the men from the south behind the Don river and took their own naval measures to prevent that from happening again. Most of the wet navy now off the shore were ancient warships, but unlike the Caspian they had a fleet there. And there were a few ships being remodeled with some modern weapons to take their place. The merchant marines may finally get the vote after this war. And the Federation one hell of a windfall now that they won’t be paid nearly as much.

North America … was and still is an oddball… God bless the homeland. The old “gun behind every blade of grass” saying was as true now as had been since the USA had let the genie out of the bottle. Which meant the bugs were destined for a bad time. And they got it, landing in the great plains region, the Rockies had been a bulwark for the defense of the States as the Americans gave land for time and blood. To the north the bugs which landed in the entirely uninhabited northern wastes were fighting the Canadians who were defending to the last drop, to the West they were fighting the Pacific States who held the sierra mountains passes the same way they had against the the North American Republic. To the north east they had the 2nd US National Guard and the New England State Militia pressing at the borders of the Rockies keeping them hemmed in the central plains and stopping them from trying to break out and make the long arduous march to the north to link up with the Bugs in Canada, the southeast was held by the Federated Southern American States who had actually invaded Colorado in order to fight the bugs, Colorado, being the main zone of conflict, was not complaining as long as they only fought the bugs and left after the war. 

The US was one of many front lines of this war, and though she had an impressive home guard to maintain her independence after the fall of NAR, she would not turn down help. And to the south the bugs were fighting the Phoenix-Texan alliance, who were mustering armies out of thin air with the amount of guns they had stored. He was half sure they were hiring soldiers from the Central Mexican Union. As one of the richer sub-states in the United States, it was to be expected, but something about that just felt wrong. 

The only real failure was australia which was lost. the last 200 years had not treated the island nation well, much of its coastal cities had been flooded, and many inland farmers either immigrated to the colonies or had moved to other nations more hospitable. The current inhabitants were tough as they came, and Australia itself served as the main training ground for the Mobile Infantry. The bugs were desperate for a foothold, and had sent an overwhelming force there, and with no good terrain to hold, the Aussies quickly collapsed into defendable pockets of terrain, relying on the sheer size of the continent to buy them time for evacuation by the Fleet, and were conducting a guerilla campaign. However the bugs weren‘t having it go all their way. Australia had only grown to be more of a hostile place after humanity went to space, as large parts of it had been reclaimed by the wild and the interior desert slowly bloomed to a teeming jungle. However, the loss of Australia would mean that the bug were preparing for a long haul, it may take a year, maybe more, but they had the time and the numbers to do it. To take Earth.

All in all they were surviving, and as long as they did, they had a chance. He had no idea what was happening outside this little blue orb, but he got reports from the Lunar Defence Ring now and then. Admiral Evelina Rayt Leonidovna was using what facilities she had to bring as many of the ships up to date and had the crew's training nearly 24/7 if not outright fighting the waves of cheap bug ships thrown at her. As soon as she saw the chance to hurt the bugs she planned to sally out and devastate them. He thought about telling her that was a bad idea, but had bit his tongue, she knew that as well, she wasn’t an idiot. Barring a miracle or reinforcements she would simply have to wait.

Sighing, he walked over to look out at the submerged city. It was quiet, normally submarines would be ferrying visitors and tourists to see the beautiful city, scuba divers and drivers would be undergoing the constant procedure of inspection, repair, and maintenance, boats would be on the surface sailing between the towers that emerged from the sea, defiant. Now, it was empty of tourist submarines, empty of scuba divers, instead it was filled with tankers moving between the towers, transporting material and people. Soldiers trained in the floors around him. Sailors trained in submarines and learned rapidly how they should pilot and maintain a Federal ship. 

It was almost sad to see a city once so beautifully intertwined with nature take on such a dark tone for its preparation for war. They had to just hold until help came, but when would that be?

~[==|==]~

Eastern Federation, Kamulon 2666GS/2338AD May 17

[Soundtrack: Blitzkrieg OST - Combat Theme 3]

“Well this drop’s gone to utter shit!” Tribune Jake Silva shouted, looking over the hellish landscape of the battlefield. The fleet had come into the system in hit and run formation into a rather large fleet of pirates in orbit of the planet. Obviously they were high on something because they did not scatter to the winds, which had forced a protracted fight in orbit with tens of thousands of dead already. It was standard for Skinnie conflicts to land troopers before the naval battles were over because when they stuck around it meant there was something down there they wanted, something that his legion had to deny them. 

Of course they weren’t fighting Skinnies but Batarians, and he knew exactly what they wanted, they wanted the refugees and colonists. He had made it clear to the Legion, this would not happen.

“P’Hai!” He shouted as he watched a bunch of four eyes charge a recently landed Viking lander. They apparently didn't know it was armed and it’s automated defense turrets shredded the lightly armored pirates. Nothing but unpleasant memories were left before they could do any real harm, the fire power to stop a full grown warrior bug was overkill for unshielded and unarmored targets playing bug charge, “What are our losses so far?!”

“Minimal losses, sir. Mostly during the landings by the militia.” The Skinnie shouted back, looking over his pad. Most of the forces dropped by vikings and slingshots made it safely to this side of the city, however the modified transports did less well on the other side. Basically ending up acting like paratrooper transports, and dumping their compliments all over everything west of here to the other side of the city in chaos. As small groups of troopers fought to survive against the just as equally scattered pirates, “We could be doing better, but considering how badly this drop has gone, I’ve seen worse first starts! The militia took the brunt of it, the volunteers ended up in unmodified passenger ferries!”

“They finally decided on those huh?!” Silva shouted back as artillery started to pound their position. Governor William’s had approved via QEC to release the Shanxi Militia into the care of the Legion for the duration of their operations. Unfortunately they lacked combat transports, and had to make do with whatever they could impress to service. It was between the ground to orbit bulk passenger ferries, or a faster space truck. Silva didn’t feel right making the decision for them, so left it to a vote for the militia commanders.

“We lost at least five before we called off their transports, the Batarian anti air fire was tearing them up!” Five ferries meant at least a hundred dead militiamen, “We rerouted them to a safer landing zone at the outskirts of the mountain range to the west, they offered to build a loggy post!” As Silva saw the next wave of drop boats start to make a landing pass Silva hoped so, they were expanding ammo quickly, and a logistics outpost to ferry ammo down would be just as vital as the actual fighting, perhaps more so if this stretched on. 

Silva sighed and cursed, “I’ve seen worse as well! But at least we’re dropping on a friendly non bug occupied planet, against anyone but the bugs we can pull off a disaster! The bugs wouldn't give us that chance. Any word on when we’ll have air cover and recon?!”

“The fighting up in space is still going on, Admiral Chaves says we're to expect that kind of support in four hours at best, but the enemy fleet was larger than expected, and she may only achieve control over local air space and not a full blockade as had been planned for!” The Batarian pirates had already been expected to outnumber Chaves 3 to 1, this would be a tough fight made worse. Thankfully Chaves had the qualitative advantage, and could very well sweep aside the opposition if done right.

Silva remained an optimist, “Well that’s good, the sooner we get some air cover down here the better, get on the horn and tell her I don’t mind a few ships coming in to help their friends just keep them from leaving once they get here!” 

“Sir! Report coming in that major enemy forces has began pulling away from the city they’re trying to pull back into the wilderness belt to the south of the city!” A mech-trooper shouted from his communications closet.

“Don’t give them the chance! Send a couple Asari squads after them! Have Jackson and Oellermann go with them to make sure they go through with the act! Keep them out of the forest, or it’ll be a bitch to dig them out!” 

~[==|==]~

[Soundtrack: Mass Effect 3 OST - Menae(Unreleased)Extended]  
Saren Arterius dived out of the way as the pirates fired some exotic weapon even he’d never seen up close but heard of from his sergeant, “Watch it, they’ve got constrictor rifles!” He warned over comms as the fourteenth firefight of the day began. It was ending up just as bloody as the others, with a lot of dead pirates. 

“What’s wrong with these Batarians? They must know we went through a platoon of their buddies already!” Tesel Modri exclaimed as she leaned against the tree. She looked tired as she drew in her biotic energy to pull yet another pirate out of his spider hole, to be shot by the squad marksman. She was getting fatigued big time, not good in combat zone, he might have to send her back to the Viking to rest. 

Someone spun a grenade out, hitting the wall at the other end it exploded, one of the many disc objects that the Federation had ended up giving them. Turns out, Humans were REALLY good at throwing things, Turians, Asari, Quarians, even Krogan couldn’t get the same level of reach as a human could with his throw. Eventually their trainers gave up and bought the rights to manufacture cheap disc grenades. “Squad, prepare grenades!” Getting into cover, everyone did, marking the last building the Batarians were holding out in, everyone tossed their discs at it. A ripple of explosions tore apart its defenders, and then collapsed the front of it. After one final explosion it suddenly died down to an eery quiet. 

Silently and quickly moving up, they secured the bundle of shanty prefab buildings they just fought for. Looking to Tesel who was noticeably fatigued, Saren rolled his arm as well, “Five minute break. Police the dead, collect gear, if you need to resupply… well there’s plenty of shit guns.”

Nihlus Kryik spoke in reply to Tesel’s earlier question, “Who knows?” The kid was fresh from some no name Turian merc world at the edge of Turian space, and had been transferred to Saren’s platoon after Nihlus’ own got shuffled around, “I’d heard some things from my dad in the Terminus. He’d know. Although judging from their blood texture, I’d say something synthetic and strong.” Nihlus Kryik had the option, join the Hierarchy, or go to the Citadel and join the Federation instead. After meeting the 16 year old, Saren could see why he chose the Federation. As Nihlus bayoneted each member of the now thoroughly killed Batarian pirate squad to ensure they were dead, Saren had a good respect for the kid’s tenacity.

Saren had been born ready for greatness on the homeworld with a fine family pedigree of service. Nihlus was born to a barefaced mother with no past, and a mercenary father who died on his 16th birthday with nothing to pass on. 

Polar opposites in Turian culture. In the vids he would be the calm headed veteran of a thousand wars, and the kid would be the hot blooded youth who needed teaching to become a disciplined soldier of the Hierarchy.

“How you figure? I was a police officer in independent space and I haven’t seen anything like this.” Tesel asked. 

“Dad has been beyond civilized space once or twice.” Nihlus explained with a Turian’s flared smile, “He told me of a job where he and his buddies cleared out a drug plantation. They were all on this weird stuff that quote ‘made their blood brackish’, and basically abolished their fear of death.” Prodding a fresh corpse with his bayonet, and you could see the blood was a saline like mixture, brackish, “They must’ve taken a lethal dose, and judging from their gear these are definitely battle junkies.” 

When everyone else gave him a look he shrugged, “Ahhh, how do I explain?” Rubbing his helmet where his mandible would be.

Saren knew, “The Batarians find it almost impossible to make their slaves do anything but very simple labor. So they promise slaves things if they fight for them, however in the fine print they also add that they can pump them full of chemicals. Its Neozine, combat drug, highly addictive, lethal to just about everything except Batarians, Vorcha, and Krogan. You can tell, these little tubes I’ve been collecting are Neozine injectors. These ones knew they'd die, so they ODed on the stuff and fought us.”

Nihlus nodded, “Yeah, dad said something about how they’d get the first born Batarian male slaves, and if they did something truly heroic in battle they’d earn their families freedom or something.”

Kal’Reegar shrugged in his suit, sitting down and checking his suit shield capacitors, he had been familiar with some of the stories, “Does it strike any of you as strange? We’re fighting rogue Hegemony pirates, in the largest fleet battle since the Kendling Conflict in the Terminus fifty years ago, against slaves fighting to the bitter end, on a Human world that’s right on the treaty line, and it just so happens while Earth itself, probably the fourth most protected place in the known galaxy, is under invasion?” Saren cocked his head, he did have a point, too many things were laying in place for this to JUST be an independent action.

Saren eventually shrugged, “What’s done is done, we’re paid to look pretty and shoot things. Unlike these poor bastards. I’d say someone was paying them to commit suicide by cop.”

Nihlus seemed to give that a thought, as he finally settled down and checked his many pockets on his armor, “Are you suggesting that perhaps the pirates are being put to work by the Hegemony sergeant?” 

Modri sat down and started to chug water with great big gulps before speaking, “Because of the refugees, this world and a few others are on disputed territory, if the Federation…. If WE win the fight with the bugs, we can take them back home and it’s not an issue, but if these refugees don’t want to go home, well that makes it an issue, so better to make this region look unsafe as possible to make sure things go a favorable way for the Hegemony. So they pay off a few pirate lords with some juicy intel and a whole pile of credits. It’s worked before against the Republics.”

Saren checked his chronometer before sighing and stood up, “Breaks up. Let’s get moving.” Everyone nodded, the initial battle rush of the drop had worn thin, and they took one last moment to drink water before assuming battle positions with their partners. Or if they could at least, attrition had affected the squad, friends who had been assigned to them at basic had died or been wounded. Looking to Reegar, Arterius patted his shoulder in a good job, the Quarian was keeping up, and it was impressive for a stereotypically sickly Quarian to do so as well.

~[==|==]~

Western Federation, Roku San system 2666GS/2338AD May 18

[Soundtrack: Epic Score - Massive Assault]

General Juan Rico watched the holographic map as a large part of the bug fleet was moving toward Roku San in another assault, “Looks like they’re trying again, what’s got them riled up enough to try?”

Ace chuckled, “If I were a betting man I’d say something time sensitive pushed up their time table. They know we’re in a bad food position.”

Hackett chimed in, “Well there’s only two reasons for that, either they need to be somewhere else ASAP, or someone is threatening their own supply lines somewhere needing enough of their forces to break the siege.” He brought up a holographic map of Federal territory. 

“Exactly. Damned if I know who’s pulling it off, but this is the moment to bleed the bugs good before they make their drops, send a word to the fleet to prepare for action, I want every gun, nuke, and laser ready. I want this planet to go down as the Rorke Drift for the Federation.”

“And what if it turns into the Alamo?” Ace pointed out quietly. 

“Let it not be said, that either battle had no effect on their wars, they inspired others to take up the cause. And both wars were won by the defender thereon.” Hackett spoke with an undertone of inspiration. 

Rico smiled, he couldn’t have said it better himself. Kid definitely had a future. Hackett however would soon need to leave on a shuttle to orbit to lead his meager forces of marines on the ships to soon be embattled. It would likely be Hackett’s last battle too.

“Sir! We detect another incoming fleet on the sensors!”

Silently Juan's skin prickled with goosebumps, “More blood for the fertilizer then. When will the two fleets join together?”

“The two fleets will be in firing range in 30 seconds sir! It’s Skinnies, the new fleet is Skinnie ships and they’re using Federal identification codes!”

“What?!” Everyone shouted in surprise at the same time. 

~[==|==]~

General James Projack smiled as his fleet arrived in system, his three modern dreadnoughts, protected by a fleet of disposable raiders and Ptolemaic cruisers, Terran craft, and Citadel ships, mostly from the four eyes. But that was not what gave him the greatest smile, no it was the fact his fleet seemed to have emerged right behind the bug fleet. He had expected his fleet to arrive at a planet under siege and assault, with the bug forces encircling the world. Instead he found the planet still free of planetary siege and the bug fleet amassing together nicely for a pointed assault on the world. Such luck was what won wars.

He immediately scrapped his previous plan of skirmishing the enemy force with his Citadel Ships to destroy the interdictors while his main fleet pinned the opponent down or risked outflanking them.

No... Full assault.

“Full speed forward. All ships alpha strike. Destroy the interdictors!” His bridge crew, a mix of half a dozen species cried out in joyous battle cries. Gold lasers shot forth from his dreadnoughts in the center of the massive fleet formations, into the open rear of the bug spearhead. The bugs of course started to react… but the lasers were too fast for that to be effective, one moment the bugs had control of the battlefield, preventing the style of combat that had made Terran ships the terror of the battlefield they were legendary for, the next the house of cards fell. 

“Raiders, my glorious front line! Go! Go forward and burn and plunder the bugs! For today, we get our revenge upon the great bug foe.” He inwardly beamed as he unleashed his dogs of war, almost instantly the raiders made use of their stupendous speed and charged straight towards the disorganized bug formation, firing their minor laser cannons and railguns into both the living warships and colony ships of the arachnids and the battle wagons of pseudo, they weren't going to cause that much damage but they did what they did best, sowing chaos in the bug fleet, disrupting the formations, breaking them apart for the larger cruisers to shred with their numerous broadside cannons. 

The most delectable cause of damage was what he had coined, “Monster Infighting”. Many magnetic drive style formations relied upon close in formations to maximise sublight speed by linking their gravity with one another to move faster as a group. This had the benefit of moving faster in light speed and sublight speed as a group and forming close in for a spearhead. It had its downsides, the first Battle for Klendathu being a wonderful example of how over eager pilots can actually run into each other, but for an offensive move it would have been the right choice for the bug commander. 

However, its downsides were that if one didn’t strictly maintain formation they’d enter other ship’s line of fire, and when impact times were measured in up to minutes it had deadly consequences, as they tried to hit the fast moving craft and ended up shooting their allies. 

The cruisers stayed close to their assigned dreadnought, of which he had at least 50 older classes, protecting them as they moved towards the bug fleet at full speed, firing their main armament and reaping death. The bug battlewagons had begun to turn even as they continued to drift towards the planet, while collisions weren’t an immediate concern being hundreds of kilometers away from one another, Projack reveled in the disruption of their formation, but was worried about the power of the unknown, particularly those battlewagons. The ships began to fire, great balls of plasma streaked across the void of space at nearly light speed, slamming into his ships and those impacted were either shattered and melted or rendered inoperable with single hits. But, as he made a prayer to whatever god that would listen to him, he felt his ship shake slightly and continued to fire on with minimal damage to the forward heat shielding. Opening his eyes he released a devil’s grin. 

What made his ship so modern one may ask? Well, it was the Terran anti plasma armor he’d stolen, and the harmonic shields he’d also stolen. The plasma either barely missed, or extinguished on his hull after causing acceptable levels of damage. The combination of the two technologies had been a great boon for himself, and all he had to do was find a way to include kinetic barriers to complete the trifecta. 

“Focus fire on the mechanical ships, they’re our number one threat.” Projak stated as the first few volleys of fire started to collide with each fleet. The great speed of his raiders meant they were only now entering the ranks of the enemy. It would not take the smart bugs to figure out what his ships were made of so he needed to get rid of them fast. His raiders sent confirmation notices, as they started to focus their fire on the softer rear armor of the machines.

The battle unfolding before his eyes, Projak allowed his commanders to do what they did best, and only asserted himself when it was needed at crisis points. The first of which was the micro jump of a bug reserve fleet coming in. Strangely enough they bore recent battle damage, but Projak dismissed it as a sign of the Bug commander using his damaged forces as emergency reserves. He had easily organized a wing of corvette and their fighter-bomber escort to mop up the force who barely destroyed a single fighter when their jumpzone was invaded by them.

The next one was when a spearhead of bug battlewagons formed and then charged his lines on the left, seeking to break up his skirmish line and get him down and dirty. This resulted in a modern dreadnought and two of its older compatriots getting dirty, and proceeding to evaporate the leading and largest battlewagon, but in return he felt the pain of losing half a dozen Rodger Young classes and their crews of skinned Humans alongside nearly a score of corvettes. He watched as they bravely gave their lives. 

The next was when the largest machine ship he had yet seen began to emerge from the thick horde of obscuring flesh bug ships, covered by scores of them, it was heading right up the center, straight for him, it began and firing a flash of dozens of forward laser, his vanguard just vanished under flames. 

He returned fire, and his main laser batteries slipped through and hit the massive ship, causing something to give as he saw a ripple of secondary explosions cross across its left flank and opened up a gash on the ship that made it look like it was giving a smirk. The battered battlewagon then gunned it past its covering escorts, it had taken what he could throw and had barely come out damaged, The ship began to drive at his formation, every cruiser and dreadnought focused their own fire on that super battlewagon, but it was a tough son of a bitch, and its trailing escorts took the opportunity to ram and then start boarding his ships as they came close, damn it he needed to move now. Looking to the captain of the ship, his Personal Admiral himself, Admiral Te’Cha Than, he barely needed to speak, “Get us out of its path-”

He was interrupted by a status report, “My Lord! We’re getting readings of a micro jump in front of us!” Just as it was stated, a Terran dreadnought popped into existence right in the nose of the super battlewagon. Already properly oriented, and but a few thousands of kilometers away, the Terran ship poured the entirety of its forward laser compliments, its broadsides, and a few tactical nukes at point blank range. For a moment the battle stopped for Projak, for a moment Projak looked on in sickening fascination if the few hundred meter dreadnought would stop that nearly two kilometer mammoth of a ship. His crew were dead silent and then when the radiation cleared away, and the smoke of onboard fires billowed thin, they cheered, with even Projak screaming in victory. Dead in space, drifting forward under its own momentum, was the shell of a ship burning, sparking and dying as what had to be escape pods and shuttle craft escaped from every hidden orifice. In the moment of adulation, of cheering, the Terran ship disappeared once more, as if slinking away quietly from a job well done, with not a word nor a message. 

Glee plain on his face, Projak calmed himself before his sailors could see his moment of broken smugness, “Fine work, fine work, who must we thank with gifts of gold?” He asked quietly to his sensor operator. 

The Skinnie, a grizzled veteran of at least a century had a wide Skinnie grin upon his lips, he laughed for a moment, “Captain Carmen Ibanez of The Battles of Ypres.” He looked over to his console and then opened something on his touch screen, “She says, ‘Only I may end you.’” 

Projak leaned back in his seat as the victory high permeated his crew and that of his fleet, he directed his ships to shoot off the bug boarding craft on his embattled ships. “Does she say anything else?” 

His Admiral leaned down, “She also sent a message for you in particular.” Handing him it on a datapad Projak took it and allowed his forces to leap forward, to cover his now destroyed Vanguard and to protect those who were now dead in the water beating off borders. “This is Captain Ibanez to the Traitor General himself….Thank you for getting rid of the interdictors. That was the least I could do for the hero who gave the Federation a chance for its wings back.” 

He composed a message, the nastiest, more vile of insults ever, “Whatever one may say about my loyalties, I will never be known as an oath breaker, and as a Human. When this is over I’ll buy you and your crew drinks at the celebratory feast of our victory.” An insult to his miserly sensibilities at least. 

“My Lord more bug reinforcements are entering the system!” His Admiral pointed out as a large contingent of ships entered of varying sizes. 

Projak ground his teeth, this was not good, he was already taking record losses despite his surprise and success, and from readings of the Terran Fleet they were in no condition to sally forth. If this kept up he may take crippling losses, “No rest for the wicked as it were Admiral. How many more bug ships are incoming?”

“From our scout reports, everything outside of this system. Strange, most of these ships are damaged as well.” He explained as at least three quarters of the estimated ships outside of the Roku San system were arriving in varying states of damaged nature. 

“Damn it. Send word to our ME reserves! I want those new interdictors destroyed and if possible a few captured!” Nothing wrong with preparing for the next war, and he shivered, for the possible continuation of this one, “Send word to the Terran defending fleet, their wings are about to be bound again.” He looked out the view screen at the tactical holographic display of the battle. The armada of bug ships before him were now starting to get organized, and the bug reinforcements were coming in from all over. This would require all of his naval might to beat… 

“My Lord! More ships inbound!” He snapped over. 

“How many?!” He nearly roared. It was then a fleet of a few thousand ships arrived, glowing in bright red, with a small flag above them. It was a black flag with a white cross, hot on the heels of the incoming bug reinforcements. Once the interdictors were rapidly destroyed, they disappeared again, leaving the enemy reinforcements in disarray. A second later they reappeared oriented behind the main bug fleet.

“No way.” Projak nearly whispered, “No. Fucking. Way.”

~[==|==]~

[Soundtrack: Two Steps From Hell - Victory]

Lord General Red Halloran stood in front of the bridge view screen with a sneer to the bugs, he expected to jump in with a small part of his fleet, feel things out, and head back to the relay. Instead he found probably one of the biggest naval battles in the history of the Federation underway as the entire system became a battleground between the largest Skinnie fleet he’d seen in his life, and the largest bug fleet he’d ever even heard of. 

What he had seen before him was also the biggest opportunity he had in his life. Immediately he began to rally his forces together. And now, half an hour later, his forces had routed and then trapped the outer bug pickets, followed them here, and then destroyed their interdictor ships. Everything was in place for anyone’s victory, so why not take it for himself?

“Open channel: Order to all Chapter Generals, let this message be heard by all. Today we show the Federation our glory, today, we will emerge victorious in the first battle of many in this war. Today, today God rides besides us as we purge his domain of the bugs! The verminous filth are on the edge of destruction! Let us go and like the winged riders of old Earth, who rode for the salvation of christendom, TODAY WE RIDE FOR THE SALVATION OF HUMANITY!” He flourished with his hand, “In formation, hammer and anvil!” 

A moment later more of the Black Cross joined him in system, and after some organization, they broke up into several smaller groups and began to gang up on the scattered ships, quickly dispatching them one by one, while the largest group that Red led personally formed a crude 3d spearhead and engaged their gravity drives.

Hammer and Anvil, it was a well practised drill taught to even the most green of Fleet ensigns, and Mobile Infantry lieutenants. The anvil, in this case the skinnies, would engage the enemy. Then the Hammer, the Black Cross, would come in behind and shatter the enemy center, envelop the flanks, and force them to rout. That was conducted in small battles however, in battles that numbered less than 100 total ships. This battlefield was less than organized, it was absolute chaos, perhaps deliberate chaos, as Skinnie raiders ranged deep in the enemy fleet and fired with near impunity as any counter fire risked hitting allies. It would be impossible for the Terrans, the Skinnies, and the Black Cross to coordinate communications protocols, get a battle plan settled on, and execute it in a timely manner. 

Thankfully, that was unnecessary. As the three fleets didn’t even need to communicate. They were all familiar with each others tactics after years of fighting each other, so they knew how to set up the bugs to fall prey for each other’s strengths, but most importantly of all, the grand battle plan was obvious for all who could see it. So it was, as the Black Armada dove in behind the bug forces and started to shatter their disorganized lines, the bugs ships burned, one by one exploding. The battle went on for hours longer, drifting close to the system’s only major gas giant, lighting the massive planetoid into a localized firestorm as a burning battlewagon lost power and then drifted quickly into its depths, igniting the highly oxygenated methane pocket. Setting the fate of the wispy giant to burn for 50,000 years.

And for every five bug ships, a Ptolemaic, Terran, or Black ship lost all ability to fight, was destroyed, or simply incapacitated. But for each ship lost, another gladly took its place, to avenge the headless times, to honor their fallen, and create a legend.

~[==|==]~

[Soundtrack: Defeat the Fleet - Hazem Hawash]

General Ro Looked at the holo map in horror, how had things gone so wrong? He’d been forced to launch this attack by the arachnida insistence and the loss of the relay bridgehead, and he expected deaths, but they should have been on the planet. Now fully half his fleet had been destroyed, or been so damaged they could not carry on the fight, and though Terran losses were approaching a fourth of their number deployed, they had only scrounged less than half of his own number. 

This battle was lost. He could see it, if he stayed the course his fleet would be destroyed and the road to Earth would be closed for good, and the forces there would be eradicated. And very likely, his queen would die.… There was only one option, “Send an order to all ships in the Roku Sun system, they are to pull out and head for the Klendathu system for repair and refit.”

“Sire, the arachnida say they can still win this.” 

“Win or lose, we would be in no position to use this victory either way.” 

“...Yes sire… They’re complying, for now.”

Ro turned back to the screen and mused, after he lost his flagship to that Terran Dreadnought, he had been forced to moved to nearly 20 ships, one after the other, each were damaged to the point of necessitating retreat or disabled. What manner of man can pull together their enemies as one, to form the iron claw to seize victory from the jaws of defeat? General Rico not only deserves his reputation, but should be feared, there was no way he had not organized this in some way, and if so that meant this Rico was bred for war more completely than the warriors of the arachnids, a monster formed by constant war. And as such, had developed the instincts to not just survive such things, but thrive in conflict, to thrive in war, to thrive in the bloodshed that emerged from such friction between empires. 

Rico was the Avatar of War, the ten limbed fire spider of conflict. Its hundred eyes saw all, its web of support felt all, and its limbs manipulated all. Ro knew this know, and for a moment, he was not bothered by his defeat, for a moment, he wished to salute the the Human for such a well earned victory. Perhaps it was hyperbole, perhaps over hype of a man who simply found himself fortunate. But the cold shiver that ran up the back of Ro’s exoskeleton said otherwise… he did not believe he could beat Rico, and he feared what that meant for the Empire. For lucky or not, Rico was an icon of something greater. The Ten Limbed Spider, and the Web of Unity.

~[==|==]~

Northwestern of the Northern Federation, Battleship Sol, DMZ between Terran and Fourth Space 2666GS/2338AD May 20

Admiral Edmund Tromblay looked down on the nuked out wasteland of an already dead world, displeased, “The second time…. God damn it people are going to say I'm nuke happy after this one… ” He muttered. 

It started so simple, he said he’d hunt the prophet down and put an end to his terror and when he arrived on the border he’d gotten lucky as the snake bastard had gone ahead and attacked another system before retreating back towered Fourth space, thankfully a Republic scout ship was in system at the time and had scared him off making him think reinforcements were enroute, and managed to get a tracking beacon shot onto one of the ships. 

Well he said he’d take the Sol over the border so he planned to, but as he traced the snake's path, he noticed a system right along the border that straddled it… something about that just screamed “look at me”, so he did and what did he fine?

The goddamn Prophet’s home base! The bastard wasn’t crossing over the border, but hiding out so close, the Federation was too fucking scared to look closely. No fucking wonder the Fourth always rebuffed Federation demands regarding the bastard, he was never in their territorial purview to begin with.

Well he couldn’t let the grey little shit escape now, so he ordered all ships on the border to his location and demanded the snake tailed bastard’s surrender, the Prophet called him a two legged hairless monkey who ate his own defecation. With those fighting words it began. The Prophet’s small destroyer fleet against the might of the Federation’s Northern Fleet… a fleet that was numbering less than a hundred vessels at the time. But it kept growing, as more and more ships rallied to his call and connected to his position through psionic navigation. The damn three eyed shitstains had a lot of tech advantages, but in this case the Federation had the numbers to outdo them and the fanatical determination to destroy them by any means. 

Once the fleet was dealt with would usually come the landings, but they’d have been murdered even with what improvements the Federation had had with anti Fourth tactics, nothing could deny they held the home field advantage. So he did the only logical thing one did to take away the home field advantage, kick the board over and light it on fire, he fired off a few nukes first to preliminary bombard them. The MI landed into a blasted hellscape and attacked the central compounds. Even then they fought equally fanatical resistance and losses were piling up. But they did it finally, they managed to bring down their mechs and hunt down the Fourth stragglers. Though the Mobile Infantry would be cursing his names for years most likely for bringing them there. The final casualty level had been nearly 43,000 dead in 31 hours of hard fighting.

Once they had cleaned up the last of the Fourth scum, they began stealing every bit of equipment they could, and freeing the human prisoners they found being used… as lab rats. Apparently they were testing a biological disease that would only kill the humans on worlds so they didn’t even have to bother with landing. However they had not found the Prophet, the snake could be dead in a burning ditch somewhere. Or he could be hiding, waiting for them to leave to call for help. So he did the only reasonable option… he cleaned up the planet of all their salvageable tech he could steal, and broke the mantle of the planet, turning the barren world to a molton one. He considered using a nova bomb but that seemed a bit much for what a few nukes on a fault line could do. Maybe it was bit much anyways, but this was his chance to kill the Prophet. Yes he had broken the snake’s band of killers, but if they didn’t get the head honcho they could be facing the same problems again in a few years. This was the only sound option… he just hated that he’d done this two times now. Nothing starts rumors and nicknames like nuking two planets to dust.

Remember: Service guarantees citizenship! 

Follow and review if you liked the story! Tell us how we did, yell at us for failing to understand the underlying morals and understanding of Mass Effect or Starship Troopers.


	11. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Edited by a person of many names Blood Raven AKA TimedRaven117. Go check out his story Mass Effect: X-Com Theory!

~[==|==]~

Eastern Fringes of the Federation Kamulon system, TFS CV-089 Enterprise 2666GS/2338AD May 29 

Admiral Erica Chavez looked out of the bridge of her carrier, seeing a wing of thunderhawk bombers fly by off in search of the debris field of the asteroid belt for any more pirate ships. Her junior officers had tried to keep her out of this battle because of the massacre on March 4th, they couldn't lose any more leaders, and for when the fighting had started she agreed, but that was then, and now that this was a clean up operation she came to see to it that they put a good nail in the coffin of pirate raids in the east. 

So far they’d done a good job of it, the fighting in space over Kamulon had been fierce and bloody, with casualties being considered bad by all accounts but not insurmountable. In fact they could have been worse if it weren’t for an ace up her sleeve, the base failures of Mass Effect ships, namely their inability to vent heat efficiently into space. Fighting this close to a planet, forced as the defenders, and getting hammered on all sides by lasers just outside of their effective range, add in the nukes and the pirate ships overheated extremely quickly. Ships that broke from formation and retreated were greeted by a reserve frigate flotilla protecting a carrier. Needless to say, when a pirate detachment fled, they weren’t allowed to regroup. 

Another unexpected advantage was that while the pirates had a collection of weapons and ships from all over the galaxy, they were all fast attack craft, which meant they went high on speed while light on armor and firepower in many cases. No long term staying power, combined with defense, equalled suicide. The only reason it had taken so long to push the pirates ships fully out of the system was their aforementioned speed, once broken they could outrun all but her fastest strike craft or the largest of fleet detachments linking themselves.

They’d been reduced to launching sorties with fighters and bombers working together to eliminate the stragglers. They were knocked out of the system one by one. It was a coup for those in the Fleet who claimed fighter based ship should still be used beyond the current air support role for ground forces. She wasn't one to get into doctrinal politics, but she had long ago faced the reality that strike craft based tactics were just insufficient for fighting the bugs. 

She remembered the tactical courses she endured after the initial stages of the 2nd Bug War when she was just a cadet, old Earth naval tacticians who saw the Carrier as the center of the fleet got their theory shaken when someone else could do it better and more cheaply. It had been a blow to morale and rendered centuries of naval theory irrelevant when fighting the Bug War. But now the fighter and bomber were showing what they did best in a battle beyond the perfected art of defensive screens.

“Ma’am, I’ve brought you the tea you requested.” An ensign reported coming from the doorway. She had been forced to move her flag after one suicidal pirate ship decided to ram her flagship at sublight speeds, she could be salvaged, but not right now, and possibly not at all if the battle dragged on. Hence why she didn’t have an electric kettle already installed on the bridge. 

Her love of tea was getting to the stuff of legends, she already heard more than few Ensigns call her by “Admiral Chawan”. 

“Thank you.” She blessed, taking the tea and sipping the fragrant liquid she paused, turning back toward the space outside. The only pirates that remained were those too damaged to retreat, and were slowly being squeezed out of the system. No doubt some would escape but they needed to kill as many survivors as possible to make it clear the Federation should not under any circumstance be fucked with.

From what she understood it was similar story down on the planet, though Silva may have gone mad with the “Hang’em High” order. Ostensibly it was punishment for kicking the Federation while they were down. But it was also a cruelly calculated measure, they had no food to feed the new influx of prisoners with, no way to transport the tens of thousands of prisoners, no way to shelter them and the refugees. With the lack of Administrative Oversight, he was technically in overall civilian command of the entire system, which meant he could legally deal with civilian prisoners who committed felonies in a warzone as he wished. No court would hang him, no court could hang him under the circumstances. A coldly calculated idiom taught to all Federal officers was that if an action that resulted in a few people dying to save a great many more, then there was little fault for that action. 

Ostensibly it was in relation to sacrificing a few soldiers to save many more, and in this case, if executing a few tens of thousands of pirates and raiders to show the rest of the galaxy they would tolerate no trespass to save millions more, then let it be so. 

“Ma’am.” The captain of the ship, Commodore Joshua Hasting, a lithe and pale man who had likely spent more time in space then on a planet spoke up from over the shoulder of his sensor's officer, “Batarian ships have entered the system!”

“More pirates?”

“No ma’am. IFF indicates Batarian Military.”

Chavez sipped her tea once again, the cup wafting steam, “Establish tight beam connection, send the citadel handshake protocol, and then bring it on screen.”

A few minutes later a Batarian high born leader by the look of his uniform appeared on a nearby monitor. “I am Hegemon Admiral Esteba Zinxe. Of the Batarian Hegemony, I apologize on intruding in an active Federal combat zone, but I am searching for a pirate fleet that we have been trying to apprehend, their last known course would have put them in this system, judging by the state of your fleet I believe you may have found them.”

The time delay was a minute, apparently even the Batarian flagship’s systems were crap if it processed this much, but Chavez made the very conscious effort to sip her tea, look serene, and stare only at the Batarian’s upper set of eye as she had been instructed by the Internal Resources personnel. What he said did not line up with what Erica knew, and she could back them up with Special Services Operatives who had extracted testimonies from the few surviving captains, nothing they could point fingers with but enough that she doubted the story the Batarian tried to feed her, she made a forced smile, “A pirate fleet WAS here,” sipping her tea, her smile turned to a genuine grin, “We are just dealing with the last remnants of those who could not escape their punishment, if you wish to aid us we’ve detected some new anomalies in the outer system at the gas giant and asteroid belt, we've just sent a fresh wave of strike craft to flush them out. If you would like to join them, we have some ambush spots planned out for you to join in.”

“We would, and we would gladly take any prisoners off your hands, I know how… Overtaxed the Federation must be at the moment.”

Chavez’s smile grew dangerous, the Batarian had obviously met enough Asari to know what it meant, ‘So that's their game.’ She thought, “Well we're not that overtaxed as far as I know, Tribune Silva is dealing with the criminals and he’s sure we can handle them, but I can send a message to allow one of your ships to go on ahead and ask him personally. he’s in charge of all ground operations, so he is the one to ask about getting them extradited to you.” She chose her words carefully, wanting to make it clear if they did release was the real question… she doubted Silva would let them go.

“Yes, yes I would like that I will go meet this Silva and speak with him. These waste of good skin pirates are, regretfully enough, Batarian citizens, and thus our legal system should deal with them.” Taking another sip of her tea she nearly shook her head, pity he didn't realize this quest was futile.

“I wish you luck on your mission, you’ll need it.” The signal was cut before he could question her. 

“Captain, have a couple corvettes escort the lead Batarian ship to Kamulon.” She ordered to Hasting, before sitting back and draining the rest of her tea. She hoped Silva was smart enough not to start a war with the Batarians, it was sometimes hard to tell with him, but she was sure he would scare the shit out of the Batarians, and with any luck scare its leaders from the idea of open war with the Federation permanently. 

~[==|==]~

Admiral Zinxe controlled his emotions as his landing craft moved toward the surface of the planet. The pirates had wrecked it good, and hopefully scared the Federation from this part of space. Oh sure a lot pirates wrecks now orbited the planet, and a lot of them must be prisoners now, but they were expendable at the best of times and an active drain on the Hegemony’s finances at the worst. Who ever had come up with the idea of using the pirates as they had was a genius and deserved a raise, and now came the part that would make sure they’d stay loyal and clean up the leftovers so they wouldn’t blab their mouths too much. He would negotiate them back to Batarian hands then forcibly conscript them as their punishment. The hegemon needed bodies to fill those worlds they had colonized, and while the pirates may be next to worthless, they could at least grow food on them like any other slave, not to mention the experience they had fighting real Federal soldiers. That experience was worth its weight in eezo and would go a long way in keeping the border of the Hegemony safe from the Terrans.

All he had to do was talk to some commander named “Siel-vha” to surrender them to him, can’t be too hard, any warrior worth his salt would want to get back into the fight they felt more important, and that most likely was those bugs the Terran were always freaking out about. Such a waste of military power them, from what he had heard about the bugs it looked more like some effort to keep the Federation together by picking a fight with some backwards empire. Oh sure the bugs may have gotten some good licks in, but it sounded like the Federation got complacent after they ended the war to re-adjust to the changing political climates the Citadel brought in. 

The shuttle made its final preparations as it came to a landing in a makeshift airfield, the real one no doubt torn up beyond use by the fighting, “Time to win for the Hegemony.” He confidently spoke with a Batarian smile, stepping towards the door

The first thing he heard as he stepped out of the shuttle was the crackle of combustion rifle fire, the screaming of atmospheric engines that threatened to blow out his eardrums, armored vehicles and bulldozers clearing away rubble, and the same old sound of large earth movers. Needless to say he expected it to be a lot quieter. Confused he ducked out into the harsh white light of the local sun, the air whipped into a sand storm almost by the screaming of engines and the dried dusty ground, tinted maroon by the natural soil of the world. 

He saw so little he could barely see the makeshift control tower, “Admiral?! I’m the field master, we need to get your craft off the middle of the airfield immediately. Follow me now!” The Terran, or he thought it was a Terran, hard to see with the full body suit, motioned for him with a pair of flags and then ran across towards the tower. Bemused he and his bodyguard ran after the Terran about 10 meters into the building. Only looking back when he saw his shuttle raise up into the air and then lazily fly towards a clear patch of land. Reaching the control tower his clothes once finely pressed and cleaned was filthy with soot and dust. 

The Terran looked to him, after pressing a hand to the side of its head as if getting a message it turned back, “So you’re here to negotiate for the bodies back right?” He would admit, he would’ve expected the Terran to at least know why he was here. 

“I need to speak with Tribune Silva about the repatriation of all Batarian prisoners.” He clarified, and then shouted, and then screamed before the other Terran heard him as a wing of jet fighters screamed overhead, and VTOL landings on the airfield.

“What?! Well. I wish you luck, he’s not in a ‘repatriating’ kind of mood.” When asked why that was, the Terran, no now he saw it, just the faint gleam of blue under that visor, ASARI, pointed to the control tower, “Make a call through here, I got a job to do and I’m not paid to stand around and gossip.”

Rude, but acceptable. Entering the thankfully air conditioned prefab tower he was forced to ask a Turian clerk who was busy at a holodesk doing what he presumed paperwork and then directed to a mostly empty conference room with a board table held up by cinder blocks and surrounded by stools that had a low rez tv monitor and camera at one end. 

The tv came on and the first human he had seen since landing came on, “-thing on? God damn shitty wireless- Ahah! Got it boss!”

“Good job Jo, get some coffee.” Another voice emerged as the sound of cracks of gunfire in the background happened. “Hello, who am I speaking to?” A man came into view, his head covered by a power suit helmet, his features were unreadable to Zinxe, and the visor itself was pretty filthy itself with particulate and mud. 

In the background he saw what he presumed to be pirates stripped to their undersuits with black bags or blindfolds on their heads, marched to a still standing wall with orange blood covering concrete surface, and the ground muddy with blood. Zinxe couldn't help but look on in horrified fascination as a Batarian in a hardsuit painted Terran colors and holding a small pillar set and holy book marched to each Batarian or alien, said a prayer, offered something, and when the last Batarian was passed, they were all shot dead, cleanly by heartshots.

“Well? I don’t have all day.” The man demanded impatiently, looking sternly, or he presumed sternly, at Zinxe.

“What in the Pillars name are you doing!?” For the second time today Zinxe screamed, he hated screaming.

“Huh you guy have a hell or is that just the translator?” Silva asked.

Zinxe turned and walked straight to the camera, “Are you Tribune Silva?” He asked more calm then he felt.

“Yes.” The simple reply was spoken bluntly, Silva not even shifting from his position.

“And do you realize you are currently executing Batarian Hegemony citizens?” Zinxe demanded as if he were to demand a slave to present themselves before him to be whipped.

“I wouldn’t call them citizens, more like convicts, but yes.” Silva admitted with little emotion. As indifferent as if he were asked his opinion on the color of dirt. 

“And do you realize, Silva,” Zinxe’s tongue just oozed disgust, “That what you’re doing is clear violation of Council Edits and treaties?” He asked with clear meaning. He had to bite his tongue to stop himself from barking out his words, as he did when angry.

Silva nodded and then holding up a finger as if to forestall him turned to the side, “JO! HEY JO! Has the Federation signed any treaties or stipulations regarding pirates or raiders with the Citadel Council?” He asked offscreen.

“not that I know of boss! damn this coffee is good!” A much diminished voice called out.

“Well pour me a cup will ya?!” Silva yelled back as another line of Batarians was lined up and the process repeated now that the last set of bodies had been piled into a truck, “Yeah, Howin there keeps track of all that stuff for me, what now being the chief prosecutor of Kamulon in my stead, and if he says no, then the Federation hasn’t signed any such deals.” He sounded so nonchalant, as if they were talking about the news and not the execution of prisoners happening just behind him.

This ticked off a nerve in Zinxe, “Well you are in direct violation of assumed treaties between yourself and the Council, treaties specifically set up to stop a butcher like YOU from doing this without due process!”

“Ha butcher… that’s nice way of calling me a mass murder- eh Guy, don’t bother with that,” he looked over and yelled at the soldiers loading the bodies into the truck, “Guy! GUY! Don’t bother with that, we don't’ take Citadel credit anyways!” Faint shouting back could be heard, “Well fuck that! It’s going to the relief fund like anything else we find!” He looked exasperated, “Sorry ‘bout that, anyways you were saying?”

Zinxe wanted to scream in frustration, scream really badly. The way this Terran acted was out of character with what he had seen of them before, they showed more professionalism, this Terran was too laid back, dangerously so, like a Blood Pack Krogan, “You’re the ‘Tribune’ of this army? Then pray tell by what law do you deign it legal to murder Batarian citizens!?”

“Batarians citizens? As I said, they’re convicts now, every single last one of the invaders are convicts, the scum of the universe who sail under no flag, not even a skull and crossbones, which tell me they have no need for civilization, and if they don’t need civilization then I am under no edict to treat them civilized. As they fly under no flag they stand by no flag, in my eye these are not Batarian Citizens, these are criminals, and they were criminals the moment they flew under no flag, making them fair game for ANYONE to do as they please to them under our laws. It’s the same for them, it’s the same for any Human who gives up their rights to follow in such a path.” Silva huffed, as if the Batarian was exposed to know this, planting his hands on his hips. 

Zinxe, clenched his fists and held them out, “Maybe so but this does not even match up with your treatment of the Skinnies?” He could use this, bring back this and disrupt their plans in the System's Alliance by spreading doubt as to their treatment of their people.

Silva scoffed again, “Petolemaics were not my call, and besides that they were state sponsored Privateers, big difference that. Granted it was a bunch of little states but Petolemaics are somewhat friendly when you don’t go out of your way to piss them off. They most certainly were up front about what they would do, no sneaky sneaky break shit, kill people just for the lawls, under the orders of their leadership. These wastes of flesh have no protection… right?” He asked, his lip rising above his canines to show off his teeth it seemed. 

The Admiral’s heart skipped a beat, ‘He knows… how?’ come on, think, don’t give him an inch in this mind game, hanging his head low, ever so slightly as to concede the point, he finally spoke, “You're right, they ARE useless sacks of flesh, but I was hoping to help the Federation save face by taking them under our custody to execute them.” He released his fists and let his arms stay by his side before then assuming a more formal posture, “I wasn't expecting you to be so ruthless in your demeanor. And, I was hoping to pump them for the location of pirates bases in hegemony space.” He was a Batarian, born of the highest castes, he was no slave to be cowed, he had the blood of a mercantile empire running through his veins, he could salvage this, “Surely you don’t plan to kill all of the pirates that attacked here, those leaders have vital intelligence on pirates bases which I need to hunt them down.” ‘And warn them not to fucking come here’ he mentally added, “And there must be a few civilized fools who got dragged along with these pirates?”

Silva seemed to chew on something before speaking, relaxing ever so slightly, damn it Zinxe was really wishing he had taken that Asari nonverbal communications class, “We of course gave each and everyone of these pirate a fair trial as deserves them, we heard their case, what you’re seeing are the irredeemables, who formed a large portion of the ones we captured. And to settle your concerns on the pirate leaders, they've been pumped for info as is standard procedure. We then dealt with them accordingly.” He gestured toward some metal power lines, before folding his hands behind his back. He had not taken note of them before now, but now that he did he really lost his stomach, pirates with signs around their necks, with a thick metal cord suspending them by their necks, as if a game animal held by a poacher’s stand, or a particularly disobedient slave made an example of, their bodies were already rotting, some in advancing states of decay.

Zinxe’s right hand moved up to adjust his top button on his suit, covering his chest for but a second, “This is beyond anything a civilised man would consider legitimate punishment.” He breathed out.

He looked like he cracked, scowling and then raising his lip to show off one of his canines, “Civilized? You keep bringing up that word. But guess what, I was stuck on a fucking desert world where everything, EVERYTHING was trying to kill me and my mates for a decade! And now, I’m stuck defending this shit hole from fucking raiders like these fuckwits, too dumb to even realize that attacking the Federation was a bad idea. You try being civilized when you're worried about your kid on Khar’Shan being killed, and you can’t go there because someone thought it would be a PERFECT time to pick a fight with the Hegemony, and you were the only one close enough to stop them!” Silva looked pointedly at the Admiral when he exclaimed that last bit, his fists clenched tightly, and his upper chest pointed forward.

Zinxe was tired of this disrespectful low born shit, reassuming his assertive posture he titled his head forward so that all four eyes could get a good look on the man, “I Will report this to the Citadel! They will hear of this!” 

Silva snorted, his mouth opening up in a few laughs, his shoulders relaxing, “Go ahead! I don’t give a shit about what a trio of bureaucratic fuck ups think about me. Make me a hero in the Federation and a monster to haunt your children’s dreams, I’ll be retiring when this fucking war is over, and they ain’t going to to take my pension away, let alone the pension of a man they left on Klendathu, they’re too guilt ridden to try.” He declared with a smile, then a sneer, “Your request has been noted, you’ll get your reply by the end of the day.”

~[==|==]~

Huffing out a curse at Zinxe when the picture faded, Silva heard another round of cracks and the next batch were executed. In total, nearly a hundred thousand pirates had landed on the planet, and they had captured just under half of that by battle's end, even now the last pockets of resistance were being shelled out of their holes or immolated in their last stands. The final call for surrender had been announced last night, any who did not accept it were to be executed on the spot. It was a stunning victory all in all, despite using a mostly green unit, despite the botched landings, despite the lack of air support for the crucial beginning stages of conflict. It was a battle won in the face of a lot of tactical shortcomings and failings indicative of hastily deployed infantry, inexperienced leadership, and outnumbered in both the air and the ground. They had scrounged up enough Volunteer Militia, landing craft, and pure determination transforming a mediocre victory into one of the most lopsided victories in Terran history. 

The superior training, and diverse skillsets of the Legion triumphed over the disorganized, demoralized, and outgunned pirate gangs. 

Jo walked up with another cup of coffee in hand, “Here ya go boss. So what's your plan now?” Jo had always been there as a friend, upbeat, clear headed, and insanely lucky. A beacon of light on Klendathu. An excellent staff sergeant and definite officer material after this. 

“Thanks Jo.” Removing his helmet Silva took the cup in hand and sipped it. The plan as it were had been to show off the ruthlessness the Federation was willing to exhibit to the Batarians to discourage any such acts again, it had been cleared with Maghernus as an acceptable political cost, and encouraged by high command officially with Minister Jenkins putting his hat in. Being in charge of the Clairvoyants, if Jenkins put his hat in for sure, you could bet huge sums of money on it. 

“Let him sit here for a day, he’ll get his answer.” Gulping the coffee he smirked, “Tell whoever made this pot they have my thanks.” Sighing, Silva looked over, “Bring the pot with us, we’re going to the field hospital.”

Jo saluted lazily, “Yes sir. I’ll get your vehicle.” Silva drank his coffee and looked down into it, his facade of annoyance and irritation forgotten for the immediate shame of survival in the battle. Ever since Klendathu, when he saw so many friends and comrades die before him when by all logic he should have gone as well always weighed on him. One of the many reasons he drank, alongside the pain of thinking he lost the love of his life, and then the pain that she had moved on and married someone else. 

Still, he got Tanya, good kid with a good head on her shoulders, perhaps a bit too much guts- hearing the honking of his gecko he was drawn out of his internal musings and drained the rest of his coffee. Boarding it he relished the moment to sit down and go over nice and simple paperwork. 

A few minutes later when they reached the field hospital for the Legion he exited back into the maroon dust. Looking out as the dust cleared when his vehicle came to a stop he felt his stomach lurch. It was a triage field, hundreds of injured, ranging from minor injuries, to serious wounds. However, the cluster of tents in the center was reserved only for the critically wounded and those who were to die soon. He could see the tarpaulin covers stretching from the ruined remains of several prefab concrete habitation blocks. The entrance and main medical ward was the largest tent, reaching up at least 5 meters, painted in red and white, its gas flaps overseen by a red cross, a picture of a weeping angel crudely drawn above it. It was a traditional Klendathu Vet drawing, it succinctly summed up the situation inside.

Those who could stood and saluted him as he marched past them all, holding his own hand at salute as he marched past the bloodied and damaged bodies of his Legion, dozens of medics and doctors were working outside, tending to those who could be immediately treated before their wounds degenerated to infections or life threatening levels. They were the lucky ones as they got a ticket on a transport back into orbit to the medical Rodger Youngs. He recognized so many faces, of so many species, and even a few faces that he remembered from Klendathu. It hurt him to know that a few more K-Vets had been claimed by war. 

Stopping at the entrance to the tent he looked back, and he saw hundreds of faces looking at him. He felt so small, on the same level as them all, it felt right, “As you were.” He ordered almost silently, transmitted through his suit speakers. And with a ripple they did. He turned on his heel, and entered the tent. Removing his helmet in the entrance he was also solemnly struck, like a kick by a mule to his midsection. This was nothing, nothing compared to the refugee aid camps being erected by the Daughters of Charity, civilian, and citizen doctors who had elected to leave the safety of Shanxi to help those who they could on Kamulon. 

The main entrance was taken up only by a cheaply fabricated desk, a pair of MPs who had that nervous twitch about them from stim use, and an administrator keeping records. The ground itself was covered in self sterilizing tarp, and the two MPs gave him a quick scan, took a cup of coffee each, and sprayed his suit down with more sterilizing agent that smelled too much like the Io habitat the one time he visited.

Jo was by his side, hs typical smile replaced with stoic mask of calm now, too many times he had to see friends die too, and Jo… Jo reserved his smile for them like another would comforting a child. Taking a deep breath they passed the airlock and entered the chaos that was the primary ward.

It smelled of shit, blood, and sterilizing agent all mixed into one, forming a particularly revolting concoction that threatened to overwhelm the senses of the less physically fortified, “Tribune.” His chief medical officer, an Asari by the name of Jae Innin. She was young for asari standards at 200, but he had scarcely met a finer surgeon and xenobiologist. She was arms deep in a Turian, there couldn't even be an operating curtain as the obscuring fabric was replaced with a cut up clear BIVOUAC. 

First thing Silva would do was lobby for increased Legion funding, they weren't ready, not by a long shot, the botched landings a perfect example of it. 

An orderly, a local human he guessed as the Legion had only a single human doctor, approached him. Silva didn’t meet his eyes, instead asking to see the wounded who were to die, he received only a grim nod and directed to the rear of the tent. 

The most seriously wounded, those who couldn't be saved, or who could only be saved at the great expense of many others were here. Already another gurney was being wheeled out, the cover above it tainted blue, the color of turian blood. 

Looking to the living dead, it brought back memories, bad, bad memories of the landings at Klendathu, of men and woman torn apart limb by limb, many entering shock, but more than a few left to be conscious as their life blood faded away, as they lived knowing they would die and that no rescue would come. 

The… pitiful screams for mothers… crying. And blood. So much blood. 

He reigned it in. Exhaling a deep breath like the therapist had taught him, like the psychometric spooks had informed him was his “reset switch”. Almost all of the Klendathu vets had been basket cases when they returned, a whopping 98% PTSD ratio. The last two percent taken up by the honest to god psychopaths. He like anyone else got a section 8, unfortunately he had joined before the policy of backing up everyone’s mind on a disk, so they did the best they could.

He still remembered, still got the flashbacks, but it was not as bad as it could have been. His great great grandfather had those eyes, those horrible horrible eyes. Looking to the nearest patient, a Batarian, he had those eyes. That long look. 

The Batarian was crying, two of his eyes were missing, weeping tears of blood on the left side of his face, the right side crystal balls of water wept from the pores. 

Why was he here? Why did he decide to come here? Silva knew the answer. Because he thought it right, because like that stupid action movie filled head of his when he enlisted, he thought it the right thing to do. He wasn’t a leader, not really. But he couldn't help but walk up to the Batarian and look at him, matching eyes. 

Involuntary he took the Batarian’s right hand, looking him over now only his decade of desensitization to death and dismemberment allowed him to stomach the horrendous wounds. He wouldn't last the hour. Time of entry stated he had come in just 20 minutes ago after prognosis and preliminary treatment. Right now a small metallic implant was sticking out of his head, a device created after the horrors of the Bug war, it penetrated the skull and interfaced with the pain center of the brain to deactivate it. It was done because shiping all those painkillers out to the soldiers on some godforsaken shithole was too expensive and took up too much priceless space.

The wounds, if they could even be described as such, were catastrophic, 60% of his body had been burned, plates of his hardsuit fusing with his flesh after an incendiary hit him, they still remained as it was deemed too time intensive to remove them from a dead man. And in parts of him, the fire had burned right through him, burning through so that he could see the hole on the other side, the left side of his head had been charred, and scratched clean of skin, undoubtedly as his squadmates did their best to remove whatever incendiary attached to him. 

He gripped tighter, and he felt the Batarian, falteringly, grip back. “How you doing son?” Silva just barely managed to choke out. He didn’t know this Batarian, he tried his best to know of all his Legion, but he was but one man. Even so, he was his trooper, his soldier. His responsibility. 

“D-d-d-doing f-f-f-ine Sir!” He gasped out. He had a strange look of anguish, of deep pain. Not one that originated from physical pain, for that was universal in all species, and Silva had grown accustomed to it long ago. No, he knew it as a more deeper pain, one of emotional sorrow… Of failure. 

“You did good son. You did good. You failed no one.” He comforted, his eyes still locked onto the Batarians. 

“S-s-s-sorry t-to con-con-tradict you S-S-Sir. B-but ah ‘ave.” The conversation was so quiet, it was but whispers. This wasn't a movie where it would be a dramatic heart to heart talk, the glorious and proud officer among his wounded men, mournful of their loss. But damn… 

God damn it if it wasn’t just that! 

“You did good, your squad is still alive because of your actions.” Silva claimed, he knew nothing of this Batarian’s squad, or where they were.

“I-I know S-Sir. Bu-but that’s not why I cry.” Silva looked to the Batarian’s eyes, and he nodded.

“Tell me then Trooper. Tell me.” He asked, like he asked so many young faces before him. So many friends or strangers on that dust ball, who had final regrets, or secrets to pass on.

“M-M-Mah sister… I-I promised to buy her back. I-” He coughed, spewing up orange phlegm, “P-Promised ta see her again!” The Batarian’s eyes half lidded now, he started to truly sob. The bat’s time was short, in a few minutes he would succumb to the trauma of his body as his only remaining lung filled with fluid. Silva had the presence of mind to record this, if nothing else than to pass these final moments to his kin. 

“Tell me more son. Tell me.” Silva pleaded, he gripped tighter, white knuckled, and he gripped back slowly loosening. The Batarian, in wracking sobs, and sputtering coughs did. 

He was born to a very poor family of the second lowest caste, serf farmers for a local lord, the family couldn't afford to feed two more mouths, so they sold the twins to the slavers. The two were kept together, and forced to toil in mines for their childhood, and then when they became teenagers, he was sold to the combat camps, where he would fight for the Hegemony’s glory in a chance for freedom. 

And he was lucky, he won his freedom after meritorious service after pulling suicidal actions several times. Awarded his freedom he immediately searched for his sister now they were young adults, and tracked her to Omega, where she was the personal slave for a Batarian “Illuminated Varren” gang, one of the largest gangs on Omega. He needed money, but he knew only war, and he didn’t want to debase himself in a pirate crew or merc gang for meager profits. So frustrated, he started to consider making a plan to attack and free his sister by force when he saw the recruitment ads. 

The Terran Phoenix has room under its wings for all. 

“Whats her name.” He was so close to dying, but he knew, he WILLED, the Batarian to live just a few seconds longer.

It was so quiet, any sound risked drowning it out as the Batarian gurgled out his last breaths, “Kainia.” And then, the pressure on his hand released, and the left hand dropped from his. 

What right did he have to lead these troopers?

“Medic. Trooper Kailio Herao has died.” Silva called out as if with no emotion. A Batarian, this one he knew, by the name of Yuia Oppea approached to look over the body. He had been a colonial doctor, who joined over “personal politics”. His knowledge over traditional burial and death rites had been invaluable to provide the bare necessities for the court executions. 

He was wordless as he raised his omni tool, and then removed the pain nullifier. Pulling out a soiled sheet covered in three shades of blood. Yellow, blue, orange. Silva couldn’t help but place his hands on the center, where the solar plexus would be on a man, tears streaming down his face, “Damn it Silva, what gives a jinx like you the right to lead such brave Terrans?”

~[==|==]~

Sol System, The Khüch Chadal, 2666GS/2338AD June 1st 

T'Phai stumbled a bit as the ship decelerated, signaling their arrival at Earth, ‘I knew I should have stayed on the bridge.’ He thought knowing full well he needed the sleep. He reached the bridge where Captain Altun Olkhunut was issuing orders to the crew, “Captain Olkhunut, what’s the situation?” T’Phai requested.

“The majority of the fleet has come out right where we wanted to, near the pluto relay and we’re deploying to seize it. It seemed they left it lightly guarded so we think we can take it with minor losses.” She reported confidently, her entire body obscured by her elevated chair on the bridge. It was controlled chaos as even through the view screens ships exited lightspeed in visible distance. A frightening proposition.

T’Phai, in his many years of fighting and many years of leading a crew on a ship himself, knew he could trust her however, “Good, once we do keep a rearguard, the bugs will have sent out couriers through the relay to bring everything they can to stop us from cutting off their main battlefleet.” He ordered, but took a step back from the captains glare, yes, of course she knew that already, she wasn't a moron. Clearing his throat he added, “What of their main fleet? where is it?” 

“They mostly seem to be over Earth and Mars, They are on the opposite sides of the Luna Defense Ring and the Mars Moon Bases. However they’re diverting a significant portion of their forces towards us.” Olkhunut reported, shouting in her own language to her underlings as the ship suddenly shifted to the right as another ship left FTL within 5 miles of them.

“Chances we can hold them from taking back the relay?” T’Phai asked as he held firm to a handhold on the wall designed specifically for this.

“You’d be better off asking me if I can count pie to the hundredth decimal. We have no idea what those mechanized bug ships can do, and we’re already outnumbered by the bug ships alone. I would have liked more ships here but we can’t wait for Projak and Rico.” Olkhunut explained as she herself tried to do the math in her head on their odds.

“Well, heres hoping something of the home fleet survived that might make odds.” T’Phai whispered to himself. They had no communication yet with the home fleet, and tight beam comms were currently blocked by Earth itself.

“Ma’am! Relay activating, ships coming in. Oh geez...” The newly promoted chief of relay communications shouted.

Altun cursed vividly in several languages, “Prepare for combat! Damn it! Now’s not the time, we’re still in transition for fucks sake!” But it was seconds later that T’Phai felt a prickle at the back of his mind, something familiar just a second before visual confirmation was made of the bug ships at the relay being assaulted by black painted citadel designed ships. “Wh- wha the hell?” Altun whispered as all comms traffic in the fleet fell silent for a moment.

“Black cross? What’re they doing here?” Some ship captain on the communications asked aloud for the entire fleet to hear. Reminding T’Phai of the note he sent along with his son, ‘You were right Rico, you were right.’ He thought with a grin.

A message on the broadband came up, for all to hear. 

An officer of the Black Cross appeared on screen with a wide smile, and flanking him, was Juan “Johnny” Rico, and James “Traitor-General” Projak, “-Ah! Well hello there governor T’Phai it’s an honor to meet you in person. I’m Chapter-General Red Halloran, and I’m sure you know my comrades.” The black dressed officer greeted with a deep flourished bow. He could see Projak tip his head in acknowledgement and Rico beam brightly at his old friend.

T’Phai just looked the Black clad man over, and asked quickly, “Are the bug supply lines cut off? And is Roku San relieved?”

“Well yes-”

“And do you have transport for them all to join the fight?” He asked eagerly, much to the annoyance of just about everyone in system who could hear the conversation. Who all equally had very important questions

Rico spoke up to stop the deluge of questions, “All has been set T’Phai. Everything we can spare is en route now, and we have valuable tactical data to share with you. All questions will be answered as we advance, but we have no time to lose, we must attack now!”

T’Phai straightened himself out, and smiled to himself, yes, Rico would have had everything sorted out, he was adept at this after all, he had helped rebuild the Mobile Infantry based entirely off his experiences, and with the Black Cross and the combined Petolemaic forces, victory was certain if they moved now, “Then it is an honor to fight by your side once more Rico, and by your side Projak. And you Halloran.” T’Phai searched for words and found none, instead he nodded to them. His part in this battle was over, he was a Governor, a former colonel, and a commander of the Mobile Infantry, not a Fleet commander. Sometimes as a leader, you just had to know when to follow the lead of others.

“Captain, if they have the advantage in experience, it’s my suggestion we should follow their lead.” T’Phai suggested politely. Altun nodded.

“I agree, it appears Rico’s counterpart has been lost to battle, making me the senior most Fleet officer. I’ll lead our elements, and support the Black Cross Ships, we’re hamstrung until the interdictors are destroyed. But we got some aces up our sleeves.” Altun smiled devilishly, “Oh yes, some aces.”

T’Phai nodded in agreement before clutching his head in pain from a sudden oncoming migraine, “T’Phai? You okay?” Altun asked suddenly worried.

T’Phai could only make the undulating noises of his language, his translator unable to make out his words. 

“Ma’am, we’re detecting a fleet of cruisers and frigates emerging from the eye of Jupiter. Getting visual now.” 

“Carl…. Carlllll….” T’Phai mumbled out, ‘Carl! Too... Much… Power!’ 

“Ma’am, they have Special Services Identification codes… when the hell did they get a fleet ma’am?” The communications officer asked as he physically turned in his seat to look at his commanding officer.

‘Sorry T’Phai, I thought you were still well out of system. We have some problems in central, big ones, you need to win this battle, and I need to win mine, if all goes well, we can all have drinks at the bar when this is over. If not… Well….. Good luck my friend. I’ll let you know what's happening soon.’ T’Phai gasped in a breath, sucking in the air as two of the security officers helped him stay standing, “Those are Minister Jenkin’s ships, but he’s not here to help us right now, whatever he’s up to though. It’s more important than his small force of ships are worth here.” T’Phai explained as best he could.

Altun raised an eyebrow and kept her eyes on T’Phai, “Track those ships. What’s their destination?” 

“Tracking… best candidate for end point is Zegama. Should we intercept?”

Altun, looked to T’Phai who shook his head, “Minister Jenkin’s knows what he’s doing, he’s a spook, and we don’t get in spook’s business unless they make us. Stay focused on the mission, we can get answers later.”

To Be Continued

Author’s Notes:

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	12. Turian Intelligence and Monsters

Turian Blackclaw Intelligence Directorate

Welcome General…   
How may we assist you today? . . .  
File Lookup: Terran Federation Military Assessment  
Security Level: Assessing… Jaxus

Terran Federation Military Assessment  
A comprehensive overview of the human species and its military capabilities  
Written by: Agent Ossius Herenai  
With thanks to the STG, The Lily Order, Cerberus, and The Shadow Broker

Table of Contents  
Foreword  
Terran Order of Battle  
Terran Culture  
Terran History  
Earth History  
Agriculture  
Research and Development  
Figures of Import  
Intelligence Apparatus  
Training Regime  
Military Equipment and Ships.

Foreword  
For record keeping, this is volume 1, dated 2665 GS 1st Cycle.   
The Terran Federation's explosive entry onto the greater galactic scene was a shock to all, and jolted awake many traditionally stagnant minds and industries. The discovery of alternate FTL, an unknown number of new species (Several Terran accounts are unclear and considered by their own apparatus to be unreliable), as well as stumbling onto a freshly started war brought a fire to the Turian Hierarchy and interest across the known galaxy. 

To start, quickly, the Federation is primarily made up of Humans, this confuses many in Citadel space as these same humans demand to be known as “Terrans” based on an ancient name for their home world, “terra”. This is rooted in Pre-spaceflight* history on their “Founding myth”**, as a multi-ethnic coalition of military veterans, politicians, and residents of the city of Aberdeen formed a militia to combat rampant crime and corruption within. From this event spiraled a destabilizing collapse of almost the entirety of human culture and society, known retroactively as the “Disorders”. In this, the militia gained power nonviolently through example, idealism, and democratic processes. One of their cornerstones of their message was the rebranding of oneself not as their country or ethnicity of origin, but as a “Terran”***, something that anyone could be. 

The Federation however, as the name implies, is a multi species confederation of planets that have high autonomy as long as they swear allegiance to the state, follow federal-level laws, and provide a set amount of resources of some form to maintain the nation. It is host to nearly 50 billion inhabitants, mostly human, all however claim the nominal title of Terran barring some cultural dissidents and treason level criminals. 

*Pre-Spaceflight: This term has some contention in Terran circles, as nominally the first incident of breaching the atmosphere was achieved more than a century before their first interplanetary colony. It is generally agreed spaceflight in practice was first achieved by the nation-state Russian Federation, in 1961, decades after the theoretical breaching of the atmosphere with rockets, however it is generally attributed to the FSA (Federal Space Agency) for the first real conventional and practical spaceflight achieved through FTL.

**Founding myth is a common theme in Human culture and history. In human culture it brings an air of legitimacy and mystique, even if the actual event and participants are well documented.

*** “Terran” As a theme or literary idea doesn't translate well to other cultures. It transcends being human or the identity of earth cultures or ethnicities. A Turian could as easily become a Terran as a human, as long as they ascribe to the ideas of the Federation. It is purposefully vague and open, as it was used by the Aberdeen Militia as a sort of rallying idea to form around, as will be explained in Earth History. 

Terran Order of Battle

The Terran Federation is divided into 5 autonomous regions: 

Central, the heart of the Federation holding host to the oldest most developed colonies and Earth itself. 

The Eastern Fringe, with the capital of Shanxi, its most notable for being the quietest sector and for its first contact with the Council. 

The Southern Fringe, with the capital of Tophet, this was host of the primary battlegrounds of the Terran (Petolemaic) Hegemony War and many campaigns against the Arachnids. 

The Western Fringe, with the Capital of Fool’s Hope, Literally “Moron’s Hope”, is the primary theater of war against the Arachnids known as the Second Bug War.

Finally the Northern Fringe, with the capital of Drapus, it is notable militarily for the only lost war of the Federation, the Covenant-Federation conflict, which resulted in the loss of 7 worlds to the mysterious “Coven”, and the formation of the buffer state “The Terran Republic”. Who currently have an uneasy peace going with each other. It is also host to another species only known as the “Fourth Democracy”, with a military radical called the “prophet of war” leading a crusade against Terran colonies in the region. Millions have already died in the conflict.

The Mobile Infantry and the Federal Fleet are the primary military arms of the Terran Federation. Currently the Federal military maintains a downsized army as the Second Bug War has ended 8 years prior and the Petolemaic war officially ended 6 years ago. However the Fleet continues to be expanded as territory is consolidated.

For garrison, each world is mandated to maintain a garrison of militia (Typically made up of retired military personnel given a plot of land as reward for service) using at minimum 2% of its GDP, with subsidies provided for those who cannot afford, or are unable to provide for themselves. These militia should NOT be underestimated, as all have a solid core of military veterans and equipment, with frequent wargame and exercises conducted as ENTERTAINMENT. It is tradition for retired Mobile Infantry to hold onto a suit of light armor and their service rifle, and the Federation maintains a culture of preparedness, paranoia, and cross training. These garrisons are also often supplemented with full time Mobile Infantry units.

Militarily, each region’s armed forces are commanded by a Sky Marshall, with Central led by the Sky Marshall in Chief, a Governor CANNOT hold both Sky Marshall and Governorship. A Sky Marshal is a senior ranking Flag officer of both the Fleet and the Mobile Infantry unless in extreme cases of need or lack of qualified officers, but generally Sky Marshals who lack experience in the other field are quickly trained in emergencies. A Sky Marshal in peacetime is an administrative posting, in theory, in practice the Federation has nearly been constantly embroiled in conflict somewhere, and as will be explained in Terran history, will be shown why there are so few peacetime Sky Marshals. In war, it is not uncommon for several high ranking officers to be cycled through the position until one is found to permanently take hold. The example of the Western Sky Marshal having 7 people take the position since 2319 Terran calendar is striking. This is because an administratively gifted officer used to efficiently and cheaply supplying an army and navy across wide open space may be ill suited to suddenly fighting a war. Therefore demotion bears no ill connotation, barring monumental failure, as is what happened to Sky Marshal in Chief Dienes, whose failed Klendathu offensive resulted in millions dead and losing their best chance of winning the second bug war for the next few decades, and almost very nearly losing the entire war then and there.

For the Mobile Infantry, their largest strategic formation is the Army Group, which is made up of around 1-1.2 million combat troops, with 4-8 times more in support personnel. This is however only true during wartime, and typically remains at around half strength. During the peak of the Second Bug War, the Federation employed over 30 of these army groups. Now they have significantly less and those they have are typically half strength.

For the Fleet, each fleet is made up of varying numbers of vessels, which are often traded by the Sky Marshals when in need, however the minimum a fleet can come to is 1,000 ships, and the max is 10,000

Cerberus has generously provided a loose estimate of numbers for their government.

In the Eastern Fringe, is a single army group of Mobile Infantry, with the 5th Fleet stationed in the region. The region is commanded by Sky Marshal Ronald Lee Sanchez, a post Big-K appointment by Tehat Meru, he is well liked politically, and seen as a competent commander of the region. Currently it’s in the process of forming a new hybrid unit called “The Foreign Legion”, the leading army general is General Ignacio Hernandez, a battle tested veteran, he is a popular war hero, and is known for his religious virtue. The 5th Fleet is led by Admiral Erica Chavez, a well known commander here in Citadel Space, she is a competent leader of soldiers, if a bit impetuous. 

The Southern Fringe is commanded by Sky Marshal Richard Riverfield, bears host to 5 army groups, and the 6th and 7th Fleet. Richard Riverfield is a poorly thought of general, having been blamed for the start of the Terran Petolemaic war, he is however too competent in his job to replace. Admiral Altun Olkhunut is an unknown figure of the second bug war, solid service record, quiet. General August Kiffeur leads the ground troops, newly promoted, he’s an expert in Petolemaic warfare and works closely with the Systems Alliance. 

The Western Fringe, under the nominal command of Sky Marshal Enolo Phid, she’s regarded as a tactical mastermind, and in the wargames held in 2665 she had often outsmarted her Turian counterparts, her signature maneuvers is to lure enemy forces into envelopment ambushes making heavy use of air mobile infantry. The region contains 5 army groups, half the peak number of troops during the Bug war, and possibly even just a quarter of peak troop deployment, and the 2nd and 8th Fleets. This is considered disconcerting by career Terran officers, as rumors abound that General Juan Rico is agitating for reinforcements. Speaking of, General Juan Rico is a cultural icon of the Mobile Infantry, starting as a private he fought his way to generalship, and if rumors are to be believed possibly the next Sky Marshal of the West, he’s an expert at Bug warfare apparently, as well as a large variety of combat experience against every foe the Federation has faced. His counterpart, Admiral Jack Jarvis, is almost an unknown, one of the few old guard of the Bug Wars, he managed to never participate in any notable battles, nor face any significant resistance when he was in the lead. The region is sparsely populated by Federal standards, and many Terrans are reluctant to settle the region.

The Northern Fringe is the most tumultuous at this time, with Coven, the Fourth Democracy, and the batarians harassing the region. Sky Marshal Marshall Hanna Ann Hathaway commands. The oldest of the Sky Marshals, he is compared to the heart and soul of human military tradition, he’s perhaps the most experienced soldier in the entire Federation, and maybe even one of the oldest citizens. Holding host to 10 army groups, and the 4th, and 9th Fleet. The ground commander is Brigadier General Gopal Jayasundera, in all accounts a military maverick and theorist, she’s said to be the one to look towards for the future of the Mobile Infantry. Her counterpart is Admiral Edmund Tromblay, married, two kids, ardent abolitionist, and career officer, his service record is impeccable, despite some minor incidents with several Petolemaic raider tribes.

Central is the heartlands of the Federation, holding most of their core and important worlds for the functioning of the Federation. It is also the largest sector. It is under the direct control of Sky Marshal in Chief Tehat Meru. Her chief army subordinate is General Straker, one of the most successful Sky Marshals of the West, he was demoted after a particularly bad public backlash regarding his conduct during the conflict. His opposite of the fleet, Admiral Evelina Rayt Leonidovna, is also one of the oldest serving officers of the Federation, renowned for her skill and experience, she’s also equally known for her pure hatred of General Juan Rico, it's currently unknown as to why. Central holds host to the 1st, 3rd, 10th, 11th, and 12th fleets. MI garrisons are estimated at 5 army groups. 

In total the Federation has 12 operational fleets, and 21 army groups. These are of varying strength and capabilities, individual unit and flotilla histories are attached to this document for those interested. 

In summation

Central: 5 fleets, 5 army groups (5-50,000 ships : 2.5-15 million active combat soldiers)  
East: 1 fleet, 1 army group (1,000 ships [confirmed], 1 million active combat soldiers [confirmed])  
West: 2 fleets, 5 army groups (2-20,000 ships, 2.5-15 million active combat soldiers)  
North: 2 fleets, 10 army groups (2-20,000 ships, 5-30 million active combat soldiers)  
South: 2 fleets, 5 army groups (2-20,000 ships, 2.5-15 million active combat soldiers)

2\. Terran Culture

Terran Culture is a highly- ERROR (!!!) ERROR (!!!) DATA CORRUPTED : PLEASE CONTACT ADMINISTRATOR!

“Oh you’re fucking kidding me! Not again!” General Abraxis yelled as he picked up his antique telephone, it was a delicate thing, made of intricate ivory and held together by spars of fishbone thick as his finger, “Yeah, Opira? It's doing it again! Yeah, blue screen and everything.”

~[==|==]~

Monsters  
2665GS/2337AD October 4th 

"Now arriving at Citadel Station Tayseri Ward. Please remain seated until docked." Came the metallic voice from the overhead speakers. Minutes later the entire ship jolted as the magnetic moorings enabled and the ship docked into place.

Ret. Sergeant Jim Liam sighed out in pain as he got up from the transport ship seating. Every joint in his body burning from his condition. He needed to take his meds for pain, and... the other side effects. He was quite happy he decided to splurge and buy that hardsuit from that local quarian shop before making his journey to the east. He didn't need the aliens screaming in alarm or staring. He had kept to himself and feigned sleep the entire time. Apparently when humans were seen outside the Federation it was not uncommon to see them in hardsuits like the one he was wearing now.

Walking through the docking ring, he like everyone else was ushered into some kind of check point, he assumed they were just waving him though but he was unlucky enough to be motioned toward a room. He sat down in the seat they offered and it only took a few minutes for what he guessed was an immigration officer, to enter, "Hello Mister Liam, I am Officer Yau Baown, sorry to pull you out. But we were wondering what a Terran soldier is doing on a commercial flight to the citadel." 

"I'm not in the military anymore." Jim started, but was cut off.

"Is that why in your onboard luggage you have a rifle, and in your checked luggage you have a full powersuit of armor." Baown asked as the thin salarian slid into his seat.

"Yeah, I paid for it fair and square, was getting old and they sell surplus. Also for medical concerns."

"Medical ‘concerns’?" Baown asked, curling his fingers to emphasis the last word.

"War isn’t nice, if you're lucky you come out none the worse for wear. I wasn’t. Some disease I got on some shithole planet shot my immune system all to hell. I’m like a quarian, can’t leave a suit or it’ll kill me, powersuits were the closest we had to sealed units at the time for me to get, that was nearly 8 or so years ago. Armored, self cleaning for the most part, and I’m used to it, so they sold it to me on the cheap." Liam shrugged.

"Is this disease of your something we should worry about?" The C Sec officer inquired, easy enough to see what he was worried about.

"If I was a walking biohazard I wouldn't be walking around on my lonesome." He countered reasonably. 

“And your reason for coming here?” Baown asked, with a more relaxed posture.

“Just some things to tick off my bucket list.” When he saw the confusion he groaned and clarified, “A euphemism for death is ‘kicking the bucket’, a bucket list is a list of things that someone wishes to do before death. I’m also looking for some jobs while I’m here. Need to pay for that list after all.”

The Salarian brought up his omnitool for a moment, messing with it before speaking, "I’ll be speaking to my supervisor, but it looks like everything should be in order, though I would steer clear from lower wards, tensions between your people and the Batarians aren’t well, and we can’t guarantee anyone’s safety if they go there.” 

“Thanks for that, I’ll keep it in mind.”

It took an hour before he was out of the customs office, but he was glad the salarian was familiar with human customs. Otherwise if he shook the wrong hand he may have noted his left glove was half empty. 

Walking out into a busy promenade, Jim looked around getting a feel for the place, it was strange watching all these aliens just hanging out and not trying to kill each other, but it was nice, and the atmosphere was a relaxing hue that set his mind at ease. 

It nearly made him forget for just a moment the spectacle overcame his senses… however his threat processing center of his brain reasserted itself and taking note of any possible dangers, then faded away when none were detected. C-Sec obviously tried to keep a tight ship, he spotted several cameras, and he saw a foot patrol of officers walking by talking to people as they passed. 

Sighing, Jim hoisted his bag onto has back with one clean move, and started walking towards the transit station. His bucket list for here was short and sweet, see everything, have a bit of every culture's cuisine, so all he had to do was walk to fulfill that, but he did want to see what all the hubbub was about the batarians. Yes he was probably looking for a fight but hey if they started it he’d end it. That was just his way, of course just his way had gotten him that shity posting on Culath. Carefully he walked to the elevator and hit the down button for the transit hub, he’d start at the tip of the current ward and make his way inward on foot, maybe pay for a few tour groups for the really good stuff. 

“Come to the Morita Company Laser Arena in the Terran Quarter tonight! Join in the traditional human custom of the haunted house, buy costumes, and on the last day of this subcycle, bring your child to the ‘trick or treat’ street, for free candy, games, and spooky stories for the samhain festival. Want to learn what it's REALLY like to fight the Arachnid threat? Well now you can prove your metal in the laser arena in celebration of the founding of the Federation at the half sub cycle.”

He actually paused to look up and wonder if that really worked on the aliens to get them to celebrate halloween. Like really, did they really do that? 

He was so preoccupied with that question that when the elevator opened the metaphorical cogs in his head started to grind. Was that a walking jellyfish? That’s actually pretty fucking metal. Reminded of his own nature he tore his eyes away and leaving the elevator looked above to the buildings, “Well ain't that just cyberpunk.” He mentioned to himself, taking note of the building designs as he snapped some pictures using his suit. 

Walking about he looked around wondering who had built this place, sure he heard tell of some ancient aliens but he noted the architectural designs and noted this place had been built up several times by different hands. “Ha my degrees actually worth something.” he mused as he turned the corner and ran into the jellyfish.

Impacting sharply the thing felt like it was made of squishy material like a water ball, or some kind of non-newtonian fluid, “Ah shit sorry about that, was looking at the architecture.” He apologized.

“Have you never run into a Hanar, Quarian?” The Hanar sounded insulted well then no need to be nice.

First he made a show of looking at himself, and he was obviously NOT a Quarian, more like an Asari, “Nope mister talking Jellyfish, I’ve never run into a pink talking fetish toy before, Well, at least not sober, is there anything I should know?”

“You're just as crude as that other suit rat. Are you also going to profane the name of the enkindlers as well?”

“Enkindlers? Don’t you know the good word my phallic friend? Cthulhu the one and only true god and you must embrace his madness.” Yup he still got that gibberish down. Thank you grandpa!

“Savage! I hope the Batarians beat you and sell you like the other one.” The pink hanar declared before shoving its way past Jim. Shrugging, he headed in the direction he came from, it was the only way to the transit station anyways.

“You idiots going to do something, or are you waiting until I die of boredom?” ‘oh yeah, definitely the right choice’ Jim thought with a smile. He turned the corner just in time to see a couple of four eyed aliens kicking a suited Quarian female in the side. Those suits were tough as he knew, Quarians didn’t play by halves, and they were almost as paranoid as humans in regard to safety procedures. Hmm, a good opportunity to blow off some of that painful steam. 

“Hey four eyes, why not lay off and fight someone your own size.” He taunted haughtily.

The four batarians turned to look at him in surprise, their leader gave him a look and spat, “This is none of your concern Terran!” 

“Terran? According to the hanar I just met I’m a Quarian, which means this is my fight. Oh by the way.” Jim took off his helmet, revealing the mess that was his face. All the Batarians took a step back in fear, “To make more funi won’t use any weapons, but you’ll wish I did.”

They all hesitated, before the leader went forward, “Are you insane Terran there are fou-”

“Little tip kid.” His back cracked almost unnaturally, as if it snapped in half, “I’ve fought ten full grown soldiers with nothing but my bare hands. Four punks-” He would have continued but one of the bastards pulled their pistol and shot him in the chest. It actually really hurt as the slug impacted with the force of a piston. He unconsciously rolled with it, turning nearly 190 degrees, absorbing much of the shock, his spine reset itself audibly, and he shrugged, not a drop of blood poking out from his suit. “Oh... Now You’ve done it.” He flanged out. 

‘This is going to hurt, and be a lot of stitches, but it’ll be worth it to see their faces.’ He thought with a cruel smile, opening his mouth he screamed out, and his jaw fell, lower, than lower, then the flesh started to tear and his jaw was early 6 inches from the top, his mandible splitting. “Fresh MEAT!” He screamed as he moved like lightning, and impacting the closest Batarian who shot him he physically lifted the fool with hardly an effort and then tossed him right into the nearby wall, the sound of cracking indicated his right shoulder had shattered as well as his clavicle equivalent.

Looking to the next one he pulled out what had to be sawed off shotgun equivalent, like lighting once more he closed the distance lifting the gun as it fired up, he then ripped the gun out of his hand, along with a few fingers, before grabbing the batarian’s screaming face and then pushed him down to the ground, kicking his chest straight down, breaking his rib cage and causing horrible internal bleeding. 

“DON’T YOU KNOW SCUM!? THIS IS SAMHAIN!” He started to laugh that clicking horrible laugh that had for years plagued his own dreams, of when he had no control over himself. They started to shoot him as he decided to be dramatic and and slowly step closer. The horrific sound of bones snapping and vacuum proof fabric shearing off revealed his left arm ending in a chitin plated foreleg of a warrior bug, it impacted right in the lower torso of the batarian, and then like a piston removed itself and then hit again and again before he lifted the bleeding batarian and threw him behind him, the loops of his intestines making a short path to him as he looked on in shock. 

The final batarian hesitated, before dropping his pistol and starting to sprint away, screaming in fear. “See you later, IN YOUR DREAMS!” The chittering laugh echoed across the walls as Jim laid on the ham. No longer seeing the batarian he cracked his back painfully once more and cursed under his breath. Retrieving his helmet he saw his own reflection in it. The right side of his face was human, the cheek ripped in half and needing new stitches to fix it now, the left was a twisted mass of muscle and chitin, with his bony mandible poking out and his cheek also replaced by a membrane, frankly he looked like a meaner, blacker turian on that side of his face, though the two black vestigial eyes ruined the image. 

The quarian appeared to be in some form of shock… to be expected but his comment pulled her out of it, “Good monster?” She asked hesitantly.

“I’d say great monster with impeccable timing.” Jim offered, lowering his hand, she took his proffered hand and got up holding her side where she’d been hurt. 

“Thanks, I guess.” She finally breathed out after she was fully upright.

“Just doing what any suit trapped fellows would do for another, plus the hanar was hoping you’d get sold into slavery and proceeded to insult me vociferously. So I had to ruin his fun on principle.” Jim explained with mirth and underlying tones of actual pain in his voice.

The Quarian scoffed in disgust, “That bastard sold me out to those batarians. He hired me to do some work on his ship’s engines then had me meet him here. Apparently, he didn't want to compensate me, so he set me up with these thoroughly unpleasant gentlemen.” She sniffed in very evident disdain, “Jokes on him though, I had to reset his engines navigational data and activation code for ‘standard’ maintenance. I was going to inform him and give him the backups I made for him… buuuut I think I’m going to hold onto them. Lets see him go anywhere without paying triple what he would normally pay me.”

Jim chuckled, “I guess you’re used to the chance that an employer would screw you out of your pay.” looking at his left sleeve, which he only now realized he should secure it before anyone got an eyeful of something they shouldn't see, he asked, “You wouldn’t happen to know anyone who repairs hardsuits no questions asked would you?”

“Yeah, I know a place.” She said with a smile, “Come on, they’re right next to this awesome Thessian place that you’ve got to try. Best U’se’leia I’ve ever had.”


	13. Chapter 11

Central Terran Federation, Earth, 2666GS/2338AD

~[==|==]~

“Encryption is secure ma’am.” Carmen’s communications officer reported proudly. It had undoubtedly been difficult to secure such a transmission. And now that the lines were secure she could see several crisp and clear video transmission from the various leaders of this armada of ships. Looking to them each she nodded respectfully.

“Now that this line is secure let us begin.” Rico began without preamble, “Our first goal is of course to break the siege around earth, relieve Mars, Venus, and the Jupiter stations, as well as annihilating the bug forces.” 

Red looked looked thoughtful, gently stroking his chin as he observed the enemy fleet composition. And now they were in contact with T’Phai and Olkhunut’s fleet as well. They had significant numbers, but they were still vastly outnumbered. In fact it was nearly three to one. And that was just the forces they could see right now. They needed a plan, and now. 

What would the enemy do?

~[==|==]~

Naplon connected to the mind gently, seeing through her children’s eyes as they spoke across the cosmos. Connecting elegantly with the conversation she saw as if hallucinations dozens of her generals and admirals displayed before her. She looked on with pride and saw their faces, also filled with the feeling, in but months they had done more than the pathetic arachnids had done in decades. Certainly, a feat to be admired with such a worthy foe. And with one final blow, they would forever cement their status as superior. 

But just because they were prideful, did not mean they should be arrogant. Indeed, even the greatest of empires can fail at the most spectacular of times. And looking at the arrayed fleet the Terrans had raised in the defense of their homeworld, indeed, one should be wary. 

Bringing up the map she nodded sagely, “The stubborn rebout of the local satellite has hampered our invasion so far, and now we’ve run out of time. Shilgaran, I wish you to remain here, support the pathetic arachnid’s efforts on the world, the rest of you, form upon me, and together in our swarm we shall make our first line at the Red World, from its point where its closest to the asteroid belt, and there we shall slowly draw them in and use our superior numbers against them. They will be forced to burn much of their fuel reaching us.” Naplon’s smile was wide, “Let them believe they’re winning.”

~[==|==]~ 

Carmen, for the first time…. Ever really, was grateful of the Black Cross. Her father had always been one who had hated them, having been in the fleet when the mutiny happened, and the fleet being continuously humiliated by the mutineers. But now, she allowed herself to just ever so slightly smirk at the deviousness Red went about his plan. The entirety of the normal magnetic drives for the fleet coasted forward, relatively slow but it was the intent to make it seem like they weren’t one to fall head first into battle, and instead conserve their resources. So they looked as harmless as possible, taking their sweet time.

Red just needed a few minutes to get in position. 

Just imagining the capabilities of dual Eezo Gravity Drive fleet brought cheer to her heart. The aliens would sure pay a fortune for it. While the Black Cross’s attempts were crude at best, they were certainly effective. 

And as she watched, she felt a tug in her mind, “Engage gravity drives immediately! Bring us to the enemy fleet!” With apprehensive silence the drive was spun up, and after a moment of disorientation the ship stopped suddenly and came full face to the fight already underway. Without hesitation, the ship captains went into action, and working together in wolfpacks, their forward screen immediately fired upon the bug ships, trying to break open their lines for the heavy John A Wardens behind them in a 3D arrowhead formation.

The Battles of Ypres main cannons produced dozens of lasers, all of them impacting with explosive force against the enemy capital ships. Already a kill was tallied for them, and she watched as the Heroic Mime and Oppenheimer’s Light also poured their forward batteries against the foe. The line, so suddenly, was buckling. It was strange to see, never before had the arachnids retreated, even in the most hopeless of battles. And now she watched as the screening force of arachnids just melted away, and retreated as they were hounded right behind them by corvettes and bombers, only breaking formation when they had to scurry around the tightly confined bug formation. 

It was a bit too easy, and unusual, and as she watched the Black Cross aggressively pushed forward destroying dozens of arachnid ships that suddenly had turned tail. Rolling them up, the retreat turned into a rout just as her lasers charged for a second shot, seeing the bright beams burn towards the emptiness of space, and impact another large mechanical ship, piercing its armor and then a second later catastrophic secondaries went off and guttering flames could be seen erupting from its hull like twinkling stars. 

The screams on the bridge threatened to be deafening as they reverabted in their metal cage. Looking to the viewscreen on her left she saw the tactical screen show the left flank trying to envelope the bug flank, chasing after them, the black cross in their number moving forward aggressively while their Fleet counterparts moved together tightly in wolfpack formations, firing in synchronicity with one another and causing rippling waves of death over the bugs, even as they too received damage, the lack cross’ aggressiveness pulling most of the fire as their slightly faster ships dodged what fire they could and absorbed what they would not, however, even as she watched, the blossoms of fire and the drifting off combat killed craft made her hang her head just slightly in prayer. 

This would be a bloody battle. 

And let it be so, if it must be. 

~[==|==]~ 

Central Terran Federation, Sol System

The shipped rocked as a volley of plasma grazed the hull of the vessel, everyone had magnetically locked their boots if they could, and were strapped to the bulkhead otherwise, “The bugs sure don’t want us to get any closer to Earth!” Ace yelled out over the klaxons and the intercom constantly blaring, as he pulled on his power armor gloves. 

“That's because this is their last chance, if they stop us from landing they could pull out a victory on the ground!” Rico yelled back as he and the rest of his command squad were getting suited up, “We just have to trust T’Phai and the others can win in space. DAMN! It’s been fucking decades since I've been this alive! AIN’T THAT RIGHT APES!” Rico roared out and was met with a wave of cheers from his staff and the other soldiers in the chamber gearing up. Pulling on his own gloves the rest of his suit was upon him. 

Scarce minutes had passed since they had entered system, and with such luck it had happened at the same time as T’Phai’s fleet was transitioning in. And now that his helmet was connecting to the local battlenet he blinked-switched to the naval tactical view being actively generated by T’Phai’s command ship. They were rapidly bearing down on Sol, the bug fleet retreating in the face of their combined firepower from Mars and Jupiter and forming a barricade at Earth. 

Unfortunately some interdictors were still up, meaning many of the Magnetic drive ships were reduced to sublight speeds once more. But Red Halloran had a plan. As Rico would learn, Red Halloran ALWAYS had a plan of some kind. And that plan right now was using Rico and his troopships as fucking bait. 

But Rico had to trust Red, even if he couldn't test the man by throwing him. They had gotten a data packet from Carl right before he left the system. Carl had identified three places that were in dire need of reinforcements. The first, Russia, namely the entirety of eastern Europe, was under assault, the line was moving back a mile an hour and nothing the garrison or local armies could put up was slowing it down any further. There was probable a bug general of some kind there. The next most dire was Australasia, the entirety of Australia was essentially in bug hands, with only a few pockets of resistance and islands holding out. Finally Argentina had fallen, the only holdouts were the major cities, where rationing had been enforced and already the people were starting food riots. The loss there indicated the bugs had a queen on the ground.

Everywhere else was holding well enough. North america was fine, the “gun behind every blade of grass” doctrine was paying off again, China was actually gaining ground. Though the losses he heard were horrific as they fanatically fought them for every square meter. The bugs in africa were trapped in one of the hottest hell holes on the planet.

He wanted to head to south america himself, his homeland was under bug occupation, but anyone could kill a queen, if there was a general in Russia he had to be there to counter its control. Which made his path clear. 

The ship rocked again, but he could tell it was not from plasma, this was the rocking of when a ship settled into deployment orbit. Within moments of that thought, the alert to let the infantry know it was time to drop went off. Being a Citadel designed ship originally, it lacked launch tubes, and it lacked the large scale drop bays and hangers for normal Federal ships. Instead, they’d have to board dropships and leech transports that would descend to the front normally. It was slower, but it was the best they had for now.

“Alright you apes! Lock and load! It's time to go feet first into hell!” Rico yelled as the soldiers whooped and sat in their drop seats. 

This was going to be a bumpy trip. The leech transports would be essentially free falling from orbit to the ground until the last second where it would engage its air brake and stop just enough to not kill the passengers, “You think it's wise to go down in the first wave boss?” Ace asked as the initial turbulence started up.

Sneering with conviction Rico’s heart thumped in his chest like it had done every time before, he could hear the whoops and chants of the men on the radio, the methodical calls of the dropship pilots as they organized themselves and initiated landing procedures, the few messages of the space battle happening around him as he fell to terra firma, he knew only one thing to say, “A good leader leads from the front! A good leader LEADS HIS MEN! A GOOD LEADER STANDS BY THOSE WHO WILL DIE THAT DAY! I WILL find that bug general, I will lead these fine apes to counter EVERY, SINGLE, MOVE of that damn bug, and we will destroy it like it's nothing but a pest upon our skin! WE ARE TERRAN!”

The speech that came upon the radio was done on all channels, it could be heard almost instantly across the world for anyone who dared listened, and that call rang clear to all the hearts of the world… 

~[==|==]~

Central Terran Federation, Sol System

“WE! ARE! TERRAN!” Red shouted alongside everyone else as his dreadnought micro jumped to point blank range in the midst of the bug fleet around Earth. The withering hail of fire upon the interdictors shattered the ships with a sudden force that disrupted their tightly packed formation. Indeed, he was moving with such speed, that his ship rammed a small bug corvette amidship and broke the bug in half, drenching the forward armored bulkheads in greenish yellow fluid as if it had been bloodied in the nose. Covered in the gore of its enemies.

His gunnery crew moved with mechanical precisions, trained, and drilled as professional soldiers, experienced in warmaking from their fights with the pirates and slave takers of the terminus. 

The immediate bug ships to his flanks were perforated by dozens of heavy kinetic slugs moving at relativistic speeds, impacting with the force of tactical nuclear weapons and shredding the underlying superstructure of the ships and causing rippling secondary explosions all throughout the mechanical vessels. The biological ships felt the shockwaves of the impacts and were thrown into concussed states as the hive mind tried to control the now pain drunk minds of their vessels. 

More of his Citadel designed vessels decelerated next to him as well, one, painfully he noticed, impacted one of the largest bug battleships and shattered into millions of pieces in turn with its impacted foe. But the battle cries of his captains were unabated, and he could hear the full rise in their voice, all of them, crying out for terra, all of them screaming out their battle cries. 

The nearest escort cruiser, “Tahtim Alsanadat” fired its main spinal cannon into the nearest and largest bug ship, denting the forward armor before its laser turrets bolted onto the ship fired into the dent and proceeded to cause shuddering secondaries to go off and obliterated the ship to fragments smaller than his fist. 

His other escort, “Santos lágrimas carmesí” spread its laser turrets out, impacting half a dozen small bug corvettes that threatened its path. They were tearing their way through the formation, his individual frigate captains using their Mass Effect drives without abandon and suicidally to near to knife fighting ranges of the interdictors and destroy as many as possible. 

Already his command table showed more than half of the frigates destroyed, but in return 70% of the interdictor ships lay inactive. This was good as Captain Ibanez was reporting that the gravity field had weakened significantly enough for the main fleet to organize properly now. It was at the cost of men and woman he had served with for decades now, but as he shouted out the chant once again, his smile was genuine, their loss fueled the fires of vengeance in his heart, and further propelled them to victory. 

And as he finally propelled himself out of the formation of the ships joined by his side his twin escorts, behind him trailing was nearly a dozen assault landers, filled with a thousand of the finest Black Cross’s soldiers each. 

“We are now entering Earth's Exosphere, ETA to Luna base ten minutes.” Calmly, almost whispering his navigation officer spoke, her calm delicate voice out of place of the almost hysterical shouting and chanting of the crew and the radios. The ship made a sudden 10 degree change and started to use earth’s gravity as a slingshot. 

Red, filled to the brim with pride and fury, stood from his command throne. Just as Rico said, a Leader led his men personally to glory, he was destined for the planet surface as well, his black blade would taste blood, his men and woman would be covered in the fires of war, he would, alongside Rico, lead the counterattack. 

~[==|==]~

Terran Federation, Earth, Third Republic of Brazil, Southern plains 2666GS/2338AD 

Governor General Frederico Pires was roused from his sleep as he heard the excited shouts from beyond his quarters. Shaking himself off, he grabbed his glasses, taking up his cane and hobbled out to see what was the commotion.

Seeing the uniformed soldiers all huddled in the hallway listening to a radio screaming something he sighed. Kids these days, “Report!” He demanded in his kindest voice. He needed to know what was raising hell but that was no reason to appear out of control. 

Everyone practically screamed in ecstasy, “REINFORCEMENTS!”

He was speechless, reinforcements were coming? “I have to get to the command center!” Pires immediately stated, and space was made as the radio continued to play. 

“YES SIR!” They all chorused.

As he hobbled through the hallways the sound of celebrating was reverberating through the entire camp, and someone had somehow concocted fireworks and he could see their starbursts in the air, “WE! ARE! TERRAN!” Kept being shouted into the air for all to hear.

Reaching the command center the mood was more subdued but was growing party like. “Status report?” He called out strongly, like someone had cut off the music at a party. Looking at them all, his leading military officer, the general of the Brazilian army, cleared his throat.

“Governor, sir, we have confirmed that the Southern Fleets, one of the Western Fleets, and a coalition of the Skinnie and the Black Cross have transitioned into system, and the battle to retake the system has begun. We have also confirmed General Rico is entering the planet’s atmosphere and landing forces as we speak.”

Pires took a moment to think in stunned astonishment, then smiled wide, “Then we must go on the offensive without hesitation!” He roared out to the cheer of his men and woman. 

His Staff were stunned silent, it was natural, since the battle had begun he had made a point of cousues prudence in battle, but now was a time of action “If they're landing to reinforce the planet, that likely means we’ll receive at least a token force to contest the region. If we push now and keep them focused on us, the landing forces can land in the major cities and the plains, we can crush them between our wall of steel and their guns! General, I believe initiating our contingency is in order.”

A nearby Armor commander who been sitting on his hands since this battle had begun nodded, “I understand, if you deem this necessary,I’ll commit the armor reserves when we open a breach in their lines we’ll exploit it and cut off the retreat of the forces we identified on the plateau. They won’t be digging away from us there!” 

Pires brought up a view of the night sky, and began to scan it for dropping troopers. He figured his position was likely to be one of the main places that were reinforced first. The bugs here produced tens of thousands daily to attack the line so they most likely had a queen somewhere in their occupied territory. 

He was staring at the screen for nearly an half hour before he saw something, “There!” he broke the party once again, spotting the first telltale sign of dropping troopers. Their drop pods glowing red as they entered the atmosphere. 

~[==|==]~

Central Terran Federation, Earth, Tsaritsyn, Russia 2666GS/2338AD 

Rico felt the reassuring feel of dropping at terminal velocity. The feeling that his stomach’s contents were looking to enter his mouth, the blood rushing to his head. The adrenaline high one got as they looked upon the globe before them. He began to squeeze and pump his legs, to keep the blood pumping to them. It was a ritual everyone in the dropship was repeating.

The radio had turned serious as they dropped, readings were announced, final prayers spoken aloud for all. Looking to his tactical computer he marked the landing site, the signs were all there, his target, his quarry, was there. Shrugging his shoulders his exosuit did likewise in its cradle in the leechship. He looked to the other M11 Babars and he saw in the crash seating between the cradles nearly a hundred pathfinders. 

He had taken every last of his very best and put them on the first ships to go to battle as soon as possible, his pathfinders, each of them veterans of more than twenty years of war were some of the finest ever created. Looking to them as they all looked forward, to the drop bay door, he smirked, his teeth shown off like a threat. 

Behind them, leashed down tightly into specially made cradles was a squad of Chickenhawks, their pilots in their power suits looked eager for war as well. They had, against regulation, painted up their vehicles, bright red warpaint was visible, dripping from a thousand slashes like wounds. 

Everyone was silent, the bumps of turbulence easily handled. We were waiting, waiting, waiting.

Now. Rico’s tactical computer said one kilometer, the sudden jolt of braking engaged. The shaking increased, Rico bit down hard on his mouth guard, he had several times chipped his teeth in these landings, and he had mandated they be required gear in the Mobile Infantry for the West. 

He felt all his blood suddenly reaching down to his feet, and he kept pumping them to keep it running to his head. He can't black out now. 

And then- Pound!

The explosive bolts on the blast doors blew out, the ramp lowered in a fraction of a second and the first of the pathfinders were screaming out into the open air of the battle beyond, firing their weapons already. The scream of arachnids wailed in and the gunfire and artillery were deafening. The door at his cradle blew out, its debris impacting the bugs shedding their thick hide as he immediately swatted the closest ones away with his arm mounted gun, firing his light howitzer. A geyser of blood erupted and his lance mates exited as well, the pathfinders holding the entrance with the door guns firing on full auto. All around them it had to be a thousand bugs, this was a smart general if he could guess where they’d arrive. No matter.

They’d all burn like the rest. 

The nozzle set to his chest began to spew out blistering waves of napalm, turning to and fro, he saturated a thirty meter semi sphere before him as his lancemates did likewise, it was seconds for the skirmish to finish, and already they needed to refill their gas tanks with more mix. 

“Form a perimeter! This boat is now our HQ! Squad A! Secure that hill there and get set, I want eyes on everything as far as you can see.” A nuke went off in the distance towards the frontline, a few kilometers away as some trigger happy soldier or last man standing made a statement.

All before them was a blasted hellscape, craters, destroyed entrenchments, carpets of bodies, both human and bug were visible as far the eye could see. This wasn't Klendathu. No. This was ten times worse. Using his built in vision enhancements, connected to his cybernetic eye, he saw to the horizon the same scene. Presumably this was true of the entire frontline, thousands of kilometers long. 

Not since the second great war had a scene of such utter horrific devastation been seen. Never again, Rico hoped, would it ever bare witness to such cruelties. “For Terra!” One of the Pathfinder lieutenants screamed out and his men repeated the battlecry as they sallied forth to their individual objectives, securing a few dozen square meters for the next wave. And then the next, and the next. They would find a path for the best and brightest to die upon. 

Seeing a nearby bughole, dug into the soggy rasputitsa flooded land, the whistle screech of a nuke launcher fired, and suddenly the mound of flodden and disgusting dirt erupted into a small upheaval and then collapse into a newly formed pond, “Damn it! I told the commanders to leave nukes behind!” Ace yelled as his own M11 sidled up.

“I decided against it.” Rico whispered, but the message was conveyed across the radio.

“Rico?” 

“We must fight this battle as if it will be Earth’s last, Ace. A few tactical scale munitions will not permanently affect the landscape.” Rico explained dispassionately.

The Pathfinder Squad he sent to the hill reported back, “Sir! More bugs coming from the west!” A trooper called, looking over in that direction, Rico could see they were more arachnid warriors. 

The bugs rushing the position were mostly of the common Warrior. But behind them came a solid core of the other kind of bugs galloping in echelon. Soldier bugs. The ones whose mechanical know how had given the arachnid Empire the ability to initiate this assault upon the homeworld. “Those things look hungry.” Ace commented as he raised a shared snooper screen. 

“Yeah they do,” Rico joked, “But it looks like someone is hot on their heels.” He indicated a distant speck of a smoking aircraft. Zooming in it was a civilian aircraft, it was soon heralded by a sonic boom as it dropped an explosive package atop the bugs and as if finally giving in to its battle damage it listed and then something fell off and the craft flew over head to crash and sink into the mud, shattering to a thousand pieces. However the piece that fell off was still in mid flight and only finally landed a minute later when Rico went to meet his unexpected reinforcements.

“Well if I’ll be.” Ace exclaimed astonished, looking at a battered and bloody Marauder X power armor. And the man inside was none other than Spooky. 

“General Rico, glad you could make it! We have vital intelligence for you, should make your job much easier!” Spooky exclaimed, raising his chest high as he looked up to Rico’s Babar.

“You’re not in an action movie Marauder. Cut the exultant pose. And lets see that intel.” As Rico turned away to his command post, one could look up and see dozens more streaks in the sky, howling and screaming like the damned.

Spooky scoffed. “Says the man who made a damn speech.” He jested to himself as he walked along the muskeg of bodies.

~[==|==]~

“We’re almost out for the 303s!” Someone screamed, just barely audible over the sound of roaring gatling guns, and chittering hordes. The constant BRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR- of a dozen 303 Punisher gatling guns as they fired in sycronized ferocity. 

But as Tanya looked over the horizon of their tiny little ridge they called a hill, she saw nothing but a wave of bugs as far the eye could see. It wasn’t enough, an entire regiment of 303s with ammo to fire for weeks wouldn't be enough. She saw a geyser of greenish blood erupt from an errant artillery shell, she released the slide on her Reaper pistol, and raising it up, she fired it one handed over the lip of her trench. She hardly needed to aim, it was spitting into the ocean.

And grasping upon her abdomen, feeling the gaping chasm that was her guts, she couldn’t fly and she couldn't fire a rifle, “O’Hare! Get the grenade launcher from the downed WASP! Peterson, Arni, cover him! Su’Yan, blow the TOADs once they reach the first trench!” Firing the rest of her side arm’s clip, she released the magazine and ducked own to reload it again.

Looking over she detected a conspicous lack of BRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR- that had become common on her right ear after several days of fighting withdrawel, “Peterson, Arni, I SAID COVER HIM-” Looking over she saw Peterson’s forehead spouting a new horn, Arni, next to him, was impaled to the wall, her throat torn open, visor perforated, and her abdomen and shoulder firmly pinned to the wall. 

She had seen it ten other times, she'd seen men and woman she’d trained with killed in everyway under the sun, from mercy gunfire, to being torn apart limb from limb. 

She’d cried once, now her own pain in her stomach drained her of emotion alongside the chemical cocktails he was hyped up on, “ANDERSON! Get your little ass on that gun, I’ll load.” She shouted to the young cadet. 

The black british teen was still a cadet, and had volunteered for this as soon as the invasion started. And as Tanya started to load his ammo one handed, making sure to get another ammo drum for him as the last was about to empty totally. 

“Oh that ain’t good.” Anderson commented, his typical understatement. Looking out as the bugs breached the first trench, overrunning the cheap as hell Hod-Kaivo’s mechs they’d set up as a meat shield.

“Su’Yan! Now!” Tanya screamed over the wailing, chittering, and BRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR- A feat she had gotten really good at in the last few days at the expense of her rapidly shredding vocal cords. And as soon as she said it, the forward trench exploded, the TOAD charges going off and erupting in a fireball that reached five meters in height, adding to the rapidly growing smoke fog and ash rain. 

It disoriented the front ranks, protected by their less fortunate kin, before the soldiers at their back prodded them on once more and the bugs charged once more into the hail of gunfire. “Ma’am, we need to fall back to the next line!” Anderson shouted over the BRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR- of his 303. Tanya risked sticking her head over the lip and seeing to their flanks, getting just as hammered as they were.

“No can do! We’re the rear guard, we hold until we’re told to retreat, and I can still see the Sergeant Major’s platoon holding the hill to our left.” Tanya shouted, with tired resignation backed behind it. 

BRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRT....

Anderson’s 303 finally ran out of ammo, taking the belt end from the ammo barrel she attached it on as Anderson unhooked the spent feed line cable. 

They were about to fire again when the ground started to shake and shiver, the carpet of bodies suddenly boiling up as a tanker bug emerged right in front of their lines, spewing fire into the second trench, dousing the soldiers there in acidic fire. 

The 303s immediately retargeted to the tankers, killing the beast as its head was turned to head cheese. But it was supported by several more, and the bugs behind them, untouched, started to stream forward unmolested and unpunished for their recklessness. 

Tanya closed her eyes and started to say her final prayers. 

They were answered when she heard the report of artillery incoming, and the bugs were pulverized by the HE shells, and then, as she opened her eyes once more, the tanker about to wipe out her platoon was recoiling as a four meter tall Marauder of unknown make painted in pure charcoal black, speared a red hot blade into its thorax. Slicing upwards to the head, nearly decapitating it. She saw it wasn’t alone, as nearly a dozen of its fellows were assisting it just here, and taking a quick look around she saw more than a hundred marauders on her snooper’s minimap. All of them identified in black. “Black Cross! Black Cross! Cover them!” She shouted, Anderson began to reorient his fire to a flanking squad of soldier bugs, shredding the first two and then taking counterfire from their own heavy weapon. 

Their only other surviving 303s, a mere eight now, turned to give enfilade fire, and relieved the pressure on themselves, and Tanya could only watch as the marauders fought with fire and fury. She saw as the lead one, sprouted gouts of fire, transforming a horde of bugs into wailing torches, she saw as its two wingmen used their machine guns and blades to cover its back, keeping their rear a corridor of safety, allowing the previously certainly dead troopers to hastily fall back to the next line as Anderson gave covering fire. 

BRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR-

~[==|==]~

Red hacked off a soldier bug’s head, then with his back swing, killed its partner with a bisection of its top left arm to its thorax, cleanly slicing it in half. His sword sizzled fiercely, wafts of steamed blood surrounded it. Xiang and Dullahan supported him, Xiang to his left, fired the rest of her Mortia Ape Special’s ammunition, the limb then dropped the spent weapon and compacted to a cudgel, which she proceeded to use to crush the nearest warrior bug. Dullahan, with his two handed thermal blade, decapitated a swath of soldiers, then stepped upon a nearby tiger, doing his best to keep the fresh wave of bugs away from the trench line. All the while, the thick layer of mud hindered their movements and that of the bugs, their legs sinking deep into the slush like liquid, to the bottom of their knees, the bugs waddling forward, using their dead and web bridges as much as possible to keep up speed.

Even through his airtight seal of his marauder he could smell the death that was miles before him.

“They’ll have to hurry my lord. Our squad is barely sufficient to keep back the tide.” Dullahan warned, even as he fired one of his precious rockets into a nearing swarm of hoppers. He saw the second part of his squad engaging in bloody melee, killing scores of bugs as they came upon them, and the supporting morita fire from the federal troops killing scores more. 

Red, with a heave of anger at the undeniable truth announced on the local net, “Who is the commander of this… line?” Firing another spurt of flamer fuel into a nearing tiger bug group, seeing them also devolve to torches. 

A new voice came on his channel, “Sergeant Tanya Lorenzo sir! Thank god you arrived.” She half shouted, her voice drained of emotion beyond that of the fury of war. 

“Indeed thank God. Sergeant, I need your squad to fall back, we cannot hold them for long.” Red declared, taking a step back as another tanker emerged from the sucking mud before it was suddenly impacted with a missile from behind, the tanker was sympathetic as it too exploded into a massive fireball far exceeding the sub-nuclear munitions typically in federal weapons.

“We’ll see what we can do but we’re the rear guard sir. We’ll hold until our supporting units fall back and then we’ll do the same.” Sergeant Lorenzo replied, interspersed by the sound of a punisher gatling gun firing. 

“Well tell them to hurry. General Halloran out.” Firing the last of his flamer fuel into a rushing rhino bug herd, turning them away as they shrieked in pain, before being gunned down by the emplaced guns with Sergeant Lorenzo. Feeling himself almost lose his footing, only to be caught by Xiang, who backhanded a nearing rhino bug for trying to upturn him, he grunted, “Where are the skinnies? Where are their hover tanks?!”

~[==|==]~

“I’m scared.” Someone next to him whispered, looking over he saw a fellow Petolemaic, his face hidden in the dark of the raider barque’s drop hanger. T’Phal, son of T’Phai, was a natural leader to these males of his people. 

Nodding to the other Petolemaic, who would be no older than himself, he sighed, “So am I. But we’ll make it.” Checking his multi-laser mounted on the hover chariot, he saw the crude drawings on the gun shield, in clear Petole Basic, “To Terra or bust”. He smiled, ever so slightly, feeling the moment of deceleration and the unholy screaming of wind ending to be replaced with the whistling and clangs of explosions below.

It seemed to calm him, as the other Petolemaic checked his own weapon one last time, keeping his boneshard carbine as well by his side. “Remember younglings, the humans are our ALLIES in this fight!” The drop master shouted humorously, getting laughs from those around, “WE’re dropping in 60 seconds-” The sound of the hull mounted guns firing started to overwhelm everything, only to be drowned out by the chittering humming, shrieking noise of their own language, the language humans called funny and strange, it overwhelmed the sounds of war as they sang a hymn of war. To be soon joined together.

50 seconds…

30 seconds….

10 seconds….

WHOOSH- BRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR-

Immediately gunfire erupted all around him, the whine of lasers as they fired, the chattering of boneshard rifles piercing carapace, he saw below, MI and Cross marauders fighting a desperate struggle… Why are we flying OVER them?

Oh…. Oh shit.

He was brought out of it when she saw a rippler flying towards them, about to impact them, with swiftness he thought he lacked T’Phal fired his laser, superheating and exploding the creature, shaken out of his worry, he aimed sharply down as they carefully glided across the front, he saw a big ugly looking bug with four arms, a staff like weapon. and four legs, he shot it dead, then he moved to the left a bit and fired again, and again, then they touched down, all around him the other dozen chariots landed in the midst of the enemy line, explosions from artillery falling around them, bugs barely scratching below, it was terrifying.

And as he blew apart another bug, exhilarating, so much so that he let loose a warcry, proudly his high pitched screaming was joined by more gunfire, as the Chariots pushed forward, deeper into the lines, piercing their forward line in seconds and coming across…. Well the best way to put it was road builders, paraspiders building web bridges, and a battery of scorpion bugs. He needed not worry about the plasma bugs, as a great shadow came above them, obscuring all light the smoke, mist, and choking ash rain didn’t, and their position was obliterated by the raider barque, firing desperately, with everything it had, for a moment he looked up and he saw great blue flames licking its hull, grievously wounding their mode of conveyance onto the planet, but for every hit it received it spent more time pouring fire into the oncoming bugs, tearing gaps in the oncoming horde. “The spiders, kill the spiders and their webs!” 

And so T’Phal did as ordered, firing as much as his laser would permit he evaporated and flash cooked a dozen of them, set aflame their webbing, and disintegrated their makeshift road. Speeding forward, for the moment, the blessed moment, no targets showed themselves, instead T’Phal had a moment to marvel and be disgusted at the carpet of dead bodies stretching as far as the eye could see. And for a moment the horror of war dawned on him at the scale the humans and bugs were willing to fight on. Followed closely by a resolve. ‘They are Terran, just as I’ As they made a wide bank they made to charge into the rear of the bugs now, their backs now made up of a phalanx of soldier bugs, the four armed, four legged creatures. And they were firing back, globules of plasma burned past, etching their way past his retinas. 

With a more guttural scream that sounded closer to man with his balls in a vice, he fired, he fired in all the fury his kind could muster. How could he, a TERRAN, not be enraged as such?

~[==|==]~

“Sergeant Lorenzo, fall back, I repeat fall back to the next phaseline, arm your nuke charge to five minutes!” Tanya barely heard the order.

“Acknowledged sir! Falling back, I repeat we are falling back!” Looking out she shouted at the top of her lungs, hardly being heard above the screaming of combat, “FALL BACK! FALL BACK! FIRST TRENCH GO GO GO! 303S COVER THEM! WE GOT FIVE MINUTES, FIVE FUCKING MINUTES BEFORE THIS PLACE IS ATOMISED SO MOVE IT YOU FUCKERS! MOVE LIKE YOUR LIFE DEPENDS ON IT, IT FUCKING DOES!” Her scream was heard, and she got back on her radio to General Halloran, “We’re falling back now, we’re falling back, we’re doing it by the numbers, 303s last, five minutes I repeat five minutes before we blow a nuke, so get ready to move your ass sir!”

As she moved to the nearby dug out she heard him reply, “We hear you sergeant, we got some relief for the moment and we’ll do our best to cover your men. General Halloran out.” Getting to the nuke she hit the button, and inputting an activation code, it started to blink, the charge was hardly bigger than a suitcase, but damn will it ruin your day. It was pure fusion oxygen nuclear weapon, zero chance of fallout barring improper containment of its fuel. But she hardly cared. Emerging from the dugout, Anderson fired the last of his ammunition off, “Anderson, take that gun and start running back with it, I’ll get its stand, we’re moving now.”

“Yes Ma’m.” He shouted and grabbed the gun, doing his best to carry it properly while clambering over the lip of the trench in the squelching mud. Grabbing the stand for the weapon, Tanya one armed climbed over the trench wall, accepting a hand from Anderson as they started to waddle through the muck up to their waists. The sound of war didn’t recede as her platoon waded for their lives, being covered closely by the marauders. When she felt the back of her powersuit hooked and herself bodily lifted up she was about to a make a fight of it as a last stand, but when she fell into the deck of a hover chariot alongside Anderson she looked up, saw some skinnies and rolling to her back started to breath heavily. Removing her hand from her abdomen, it came back black and red with blood and corpse bile.

“Shit….. Shit shit shit shit shit…..”

~[==|==]~

T’Phai held tightly to his chair as his ship rumbled as it suffered another hit from the bug plasma, “Damage report!” Olkhunut screamed over the sound of klaxons, as the ship fired its forward lasers once more and powered through the debris of a wrecked bug Super colony ship. 

“Starboard Deck 18 maintenance tunnels have depressurized again! No casualties reported, damage control teams report that fuel line beta, and coolant lines 4, 6, 9, 23, and 26 have been severed totally, rerouting coolant now!” The XO screamed out, holding up the flap of skin on his head after a previous impact with the bulkhead ripped half his face off. Blood streamed down his features like a crimson mask. 

Doing the internal math, T’Phai felt a bit more comfortable- uh oh. Looking at his suits thermometer, the ship temperature had risen notably by twenty degrees fahrenheit. Ship temperature in Federal designs was critical, they had extensive coolant lines running through out their vessels to keep it from exploding or shearing apart from heat stress even during the most grueling of combat temperatures and atmospheres. 

“Ma’am the bugs are falling back!” Olkhunut looked up sharply to the main viewscreen, seeing the tens of thousands of red blips retreating away from the battle lines around the kuiper belt and mars, leaving behind many of the wounded and damaged vessels as the healthy ships retreated.

“Keep Advancing to that bug-mech supership there! I want another notch on our hull for a dreadnought kill!” She declared with fire in her voice, “Ramming speed boys and girls! RAMMING SPEED!” Immediately the ship picked up in speed, and its supporting escorts tried to keep up. 

So far the bugs had done their damndest everything to keep them back from these ships, which had lead Admiral Ibanez to determine its class was the flagships for the enemy fleet, and therefore had sent Olkhunut to personally dispatch its ilk. And hell or high water Olkhunut had spent the lives of her fellow citizens and their vessels efficiently to kill every last one in her line. And this was the final one here.

Feeling the Gs press against T’Phai, he started to think perhaps a bit too aggressively, as he saw the crazed frenzied look in her eyes. Looking out the window he could actually SEE it from this distance, a speck of light yes, but fucking hell they could SEE IT WITH THEIR EYES! And it was getting noticeable closer. 

“I want those Libertatem missile corvettes ready to go, I’ve been saving these babies for a special occasion!” Olkhunut yelled in savage glee. Which was soon joined in a chant by her fellow bridge officers, as they all knew their roles, they got closer, closer, closer. T’Phai saw the missile corvettes, manned by Libertatem mercenaries, buzz past them dangerously close, seeing the contrials and fires of their fusion engines, they looked like giant war darts, with a barbed hook at the front with six scaffolding wings filled to the brim with nuclear tipped missiles and ground support munitions. 

He gulped, and saw nearly a hundred new stars blink into existence as they were fired. And looking to his view screen he watched with horrid fascination as a bright red blob advanced towards the bug super dreadnought. When they were a thousand kilometers from their destination he looked out the window, and a few seconds later, he saw the barely visible super dreadnought evaporate. Five kilometers of metal and biotechnology turned to dust and energy as it and its escorting cruisers and frigates was obliterated by the Libertatem missiles. He saw the Libertatem ships peel off and start to zoom away as fast as any petolemaic raider, to the relay at pluto.

And Olkhunut was laughing uproariously at the explosion, and the destruction of her enemies. And then the ship rocked, creaked, and then with a reverberating P’twang, sheared in half. Once more, T’Phai felt like he was going to throw up as his half of the ship started to spin wildly. 

~[==|==]~

Carmen watched as the remnants of the bugs armada was pushed further away from Mars. Through the combined efforts of the Allied Fleets they had won a tactical victory as the first stage, seeing the bugs starting to retreat. Carmen sighed heavily, her face drained of color and emotion, her soul devoured, she had seen thousands of ships be totally destroyed, with all hands, and many thousands more disabled or damaged critically. “Signal the frigates to-” No no, they were running on fumes, almost out of fuel in totality, shit… “-Let them run, call the logistics train up, get any damn tugboat, life ship, and civilian pleasure ship out here and collect escape pods. I want at least 50% of the fleet refueled in one hour, prioritise undamaged and slightly damaged ships first.”

“What about the Black Cross ships ma’am? They don't use Hydrogen.” Her XO reported.

“Tell them to do what they see as best. We don't exactly have an anti matter plant here.” Carmen exhaled. It had been close. Too damn close. Her first wave, including her ship had been run to pieces. Wearing a power suit, life support had been deactivated on her ship to provide enough power to move themselves out of the firing line. 

It’d been close, no doubts in that, the bugs outnumbered them, and even with the hasty planning and contingencies by everyone for such a fight, they were lucky that no significant numbers of blue on blues happened. 

After the first wave hit, Carmen had carefully organized the use of rotating shifts and ships into conflict with the bug fleet, slowly grinding them down and not letting any reprieve, using the Black Cross’s Eezo drive ships to harass the bug back lines while she allowed her forces to pull back to repair and rearm before going back into the meat grinder. The bugs had been bent to breaking and were by design pinned to place to withstand the shock of her fleets firepower. 

Thousands of the bug ships had already fled into the void between stars. That… That was a nightmare, they would be hell to hunt down, but they were hundreds of light years from friendly space, and therefore, rearm and refitting. So even if they did escape now they would probably starve or be run down by some smaller detachment of Federal ships that would have nothing to do with this victory. Hopefully. 

Looking at the casualty list, she was reminded of Klendathu, the first battle, and how in her second battle over Planet P she held her captain dying her in her arms. Turning to the left on reflex, her stomach a ball of knots, she vomited in her helmet. The stress was building, and thankfully her day was over. Rico had just reported finding the bug nest in Russia. “I’m retiring for a few hours sleep, inform me when the fleet has reformed to resume the attack on the bug forces.” She announced before unsteadily rising from her seat, unbuckling and floating to the exit, even as she tried to navigate in the red light and stomach acid covered helmet. 

~[==|==]~

“This it?” Rico asked as his snoopers zoomed into what used to be a particularly large and stagnant lake. Night had fallen, and Spooky had lived up to his word on the intel. Rico ached to kill this bug, as he saw another batch of warriors emerge from the stagnant waters and charge forward on the web roads. 

“Yeeeeees sir!” Spooky said with disarming cheer, “Either its a gathering of queens or we got an honest to god general bug here. Its what Telepath command said at the very least, so depends on how far you trust psychics. Me? Not so much after Hesperus, but my gut feeling tells me that yeah it's here.” Spooky just kept talking and, talking and talking on all the signs and minutiae that went into his observations on why this was the right spot. Rico tuned him out after ten seconds, already making up his mind. 

Looking to his pathfinder squad, he ordered, “Get the nukes ready. I want the lake evaporated.”

To be continued


	14. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

Central Terran Federation, Earth, somewhere in central West Russia, 2666GS/2338AD June 1st  
~[==|==]~

Rico looked on in satisfaction, within the span of a few minutes the tactical nuclear warheads were set and thrown into the pond. Everyone looked away as the pond was flash evaporated into scalding hot steam, the explosion evaporating the pond and the pressure wave collapsing the tunnels beneath. Immediately Pathfinder scouts leaped forward with K9 units in tow. “Get me a subterranean scan, I want to make sure that network has been collapsed-”

“Rico! Don’t know what you did but the bug forces just broke all across the line. Looks like a big time withdrawal. Right on the edge of overrunning my rear guard too!” Red Halloran’s voice came over the radio, and Rico looked at his own cam feeds to see this was indeed true. Still. He must ensure the bug general’s death.

But there was no time. “Deploy the CHAS units!” He ordered at a scream. Immediately the two logistics trucks they had with them pulled off three crates. The three crates opened up into the large robots. His own Marauder stomped before them, and he looked at them, “You all know your duty. We cannot remain here, but we must ensure the Bug General’s destruction.” He saluted them, “I bid you luck in your hunt.”

The CHAS units had the information uploaded and immediately accessed the battlenet. They knew their duty, and they knew they most likely wouldn’t return in one piece, the middle one replied as squad leader, “We hear you, sir! We’ll get the bastard, you just come back for our mem-units sir, and we’ll get you the bug’s head. Come on you trash cans! You wanna live forever!” The two other CHAS units emitted a white screeching battlecry in reply as they all charged to the bug hole. 

“Godspeed you apes.” Rico mouthed before turning off. “Signal for pickup! We’re getting out of here and rejoining the defense at our line.” He ordered to Ace who made the preparations.

Central Terran Federation, Earth, Orbit 2666GS/2338AD June 1st  
~[==|==]~

Naplon entered the orbit of Earth, the ship she currently commanded badly battered from the Federation’s concentrated assaults on it and the many others like it. She had given as good as she got, but the enemy was too many, and the assault too fierce and continuous. 

She had no time to regroup, she had no time to give orders, she was always under assault, and they would move in, strafe her, move out with the next line right behind them, giving them time to retreat as the line continued indefinitely, then the Terran home fleet made its strike on her rear, and with its power had crippled many of her plasma support ships then left as soon as she tried to turn her forces or the rear guard tried to hit Luna.

But the damage was done, her interdictors dwindled to a handful with the blasted Black Crossed ships flitting in and out, doing suicidal runs against her fleet to just get to them. 

And now her general on the surface, his voice had quietened with a suddenness that marked death.

Naplon looked out of her view screen and saw the pale blue dot in the far distance. “Is the contraption ready?”

“Yes, my queen. This will certainly look like the real thing. I have no doubts the Terrans will consider it real as well.” Her technician advised as he presented the viewscreen of the bomb to her. It looked like a central cylinder with 8 more strapped around it. Black and yellow, the letters NOVA was painted on it.

“Excellent. Open a call to the planet’s surface.”

~[==|==]~

Central Terran Federation, Earth, Honolulu Hawai’i 2666GS/2338AD June 1st

Alexander Williams looked over the screens bringing in intel from all over Earth, they'd done it, they held out through the siege and now reinforcements had arrived, and were slowing down the enemy armies in Russia and South America, and with any luck, they would commence operations to face the other Army soon enough. The victory was now more than possible and they could soon begin plotting up a counterattack against the bugs. At least that's what he planned to propose. Rico had yet to return from his deep strike, Frederico in South America was too busy fighting for clear communications, and the main Terran Fleet was a bit too far away for safe communications. 

He looked out the window to the underwater metropolis and breathed in heavily, in a great sigh. There were no celebrations among the people, the surface a few dozen meters above was packed with ships transporting goods, the submarines below the surface moving freight and food. Rationing had gone into full effect worldwide, with everything being put under ration while the emergency was happening. 

“Sir, a message from orbit.” His aide reported.

“Leonidovna?” He asked hopefully. 

“No, sir. It's coming from the bug fleet.” 

Williams paused before nodding. The message was routed through several communications relays throughout the planet before it finally reached his screen, “This is Governor Alexander Williams, of Shanxi. Whom do I have the honor of speaking to?

The voice at the other end was not what he expected it to be. It was soft, deep, deeper than any human throat could be, it reverberated through the speakers and it required the machines to be calibrated before a legible message could be put through, “I am Naplon, Empress of the Pseudo-Arachnida Empire, ruler of all that I see. I wish to enter negotiations. I believe I’ve made my point and sated the bloodlust of my lessers.”

Williams paused for a moment before clearing his voice, “Empress, I'm not so sure you understand just what position you're in. Your armies are routing, your fleet has been crippled, and you’re trapped between us and the combined fleets out there. And right now you’ve got about 8 billion pissed off Terrans looking to finish the job we should have done eight years ago.”

There was silence, then a deep rumbling. Was she… Laughing, “Governor Williams I did not even send one-tenth of the Navy to this pathetic campaign you call a war.“ As a last deep rumble emitted in gasps before it subsided, “But that is beside the point. I’m no fool who thinks they can just demand to enter negotiations. What is your saying? Gunboat diplomacy? You see I scavenged something from a couple of your ‘gunboats’. The Yorktown, John A Warden, and the Trafalgar. Does that ‘Ring a bell’?”

William’s blood ran cold. She couldn’t have. They couldn’t have been so foolish as to let those get in her hands. They’d have all died before that. Suddenly a picture came up on his viewscreen, no it was a live feed, spider-like bugs about three meters tall were all working on it with tablets and tools in hand.

It was a NOVA bomb.

“As you can see Governor, you will agree to the ceasefire. You will also agree to the return of many of the planets you took from the Arachnid Empire’s core. Do this and we can all get back to more important things. Well I can, the Afroditi scum has gone too long without a punishment for their arrogance.” The deep rumbling voice of Naplon came through and Williams still stared long and hard at the NOVA bomb.

Alexander’s stomach felt like it dropped out of him.

“Of course I don't need to unleash those weapons, do I? I’m spoiled for options that I could use to turn your planet to slag. I just find the NOVA bomb ironic. You destroy our homeworld, we destroy yours. I mean I have a fleet of at least a few thousand combat capable ships, A few of them enter full sublight from here to there and crash into the planet, that should cause enormous damage to most of your population centers situated on the coast. Imagine a five-kilometer ship crashing full speed in the water. I can have the arachnids unleash their retrovirus. Turn your civilian population against your own forces. I can initiate full bombardment of your planet in but a few seconds with the fleet assets still in orbit. I can do a lot that will all end with Earth lost for good, and your Western and Southern fleets completely decimated with no chance of repairing them before my successor decides to turn the rest of your Federation into but a memory.”

Williams was motionless, pale as snow. 

She continued, “But. I’m impressed. I will fully admit, the Arachnida were monumentally stupid in their actions to attack you without warning or reason. From nothing but a few small colonies and the recent invention of FTL. To a star-spanning empire of half a dozen species, and hundreds of colonized planets. I’ll reiterate. I’m impressed. I don’t get impressed every decade. And in what? 40? 60 solar cycles tops? I’m hard-pressed to think if even destroying Earth in its totality will end this war. Not like the Petolemaic, and their fractured nature. No, you will prove to be enough of a thorn in the side of my glorious empire long enough for the wretched Afroditi to get the upper hand. And I can’t have that.” 

“So governor are you willing to consider the terms I laid out for a peaceful solution to this potentially never-ending War?”

Williams paused, and swallowed the lump in his throat, “I will need to consult with a few people, but I’m a man with not inconsiderable voting leverage. Your terms are worth considering. But we can’t walk away without something after all this. You must consider all the political ramifications!” 

“I’m well aware of your human history, and to be honest, I find a new surge of ‘extremist’ activity in your political structure to be entertaining, and I’m eagerly awaiting the show it will put on. But if it will end this war, I will listen to some of your demands. Do not expect concessions though. We will reconvene in one hour, you better have the authorization of your government for I will not delay striking first if I believe you’re trying to buy time.” Naplon declared, the rumbling ceasing almost instantly after as the line was cut. 

~[==|==]~

William’s sighed, “So we’re in agreement then?” All around him on various monitors were the faces of the top twenty most important commanders and political leaders of the Federation that could be contacted. 

General Rico. Captain Carmen. (SpaceNAV) Admiral Leodinova. Governor T’Phai. Sky Marshall Prime Hathaway. Governor Frederico. Governor N’Daba. Governor Ali Sharifa. Governor Polskanski. Governor Marceau. Governor Tian. Governor Yang. Governor Kefa. Field Marshall Koskin. (WetNAV) Admiral Korinchkin. Ambassador Maghernus. Governor Isaac. Governor Essex. And Director of SICON Eireson.

Rico nodded, slowly, “IF. If she's telling the truth and good on her word. We need to take it.”

Carmen also nodded emphatically, “Our combined forces could force the enemy and destroy them, at great loss to ourselves. It won’t be quick, it won’t be easy. We’d never beat them before they dropped their NOVAs or start bombardment.”

Eireson’s eyes were closed. He was the sole psychic in the call and a clairvoyant. Suddenly his eyes opened, “Take it. She’s good on her word. The immediate alternatives are very much worse than a bad peace deal.” He spoke with a steel like authority. Everyone was looking at him. Everyone straightened themselves. 

“I believe. We should begin the vote.” Maghernus suggested plainly. 

“As the representative with the most voting power. I will abstain as I cannot accurately predict what my constituency will vote for. And therefore be the scorekeeper.” Williams offered diplomatically. 

“Agreed Williams.” Sky Marshall Hathaway affirmed before hacking up a ball of phlegm again. 

Setting up the system, Williams began, “All in favor of a negotiated treaty?”

Twenty green lights lit up.

“All in favor of continuing the war?” Zero green lights appeared. 

“It is unanimous. A negotiated peace, to be preceded by a negotiated armistice.” Williams announced, deadpan. Then, “For the Federation, let us make peace for the good of all…” He paused in thought, “‘Do not repay evil with evil or insult with insult. On the contrary, repay evil with blessing, because to this you were called so that you may inherit a blessing.’ We may all be remembered as those who threw away the sacrifices and deaths of hundreds of millions because we feared death. Because we feared death and the death of Terra herself. But I know that this peace will be a blessing on our hearts and a fire in our hearts.”

~[==|==]~

Central Federation Zegema Beach, 2666GS/2338AD June 15st

Sky Marshal Straker contemplated the whirlwind of the last few weeks, he had been planning an offensive operation to learn of what was happening over Earth and the enemies disposition when things began to spiral out of control again. First bad news arrived in that the northern fleet was engaged against what could be best summed up as a socialist rebellion of some kind. It seems that after Admiral Trombley launched his attack against the prophet, rumors had then spread that the North Fleet had all been destroyed in this attack. This then resulted in agitators militarizing to take control of what was then an already precarious situation and declare themselves independent of the Federation, probably to try and get a better peace deal with the arachnids when they came, or defect to the Coven for protection from the Fourth and the Arachnids. 

Unfortunately for them, the rumors were half wrong. The Northern Territories were always going to be a problem child of the Federation. They were so gripped by fear of the enemies around them that they just wanted a way out and now the way they had chosen was leading to a wasting of resources that could be best served saving the Federation. 

He had been contemplating how to deal with this situation when the Governor Prime had offered a solution. He said, instead of sending more troops out the north to deal with the insurrection, they should instead hire and arm mercenaries and militias in the region. He had almost immediately discarded it. Despite the objection that there were many trustworthy sorts to be sent, there were only two forces large enough to serve their purpose, Black Cross, and Morita Security Services. The former was untrustworthy, the latter stretched to breaking by private contracts at this time. He may have been out of the military game for the last few years, but he kept track of what was going on in the various fronts the Federation was involved in, but the number of mercenaries and militia that the governor claimed they could get to their side was too large for what he knew was in the region. Skeptical he said he'd look into the possibility of using the idea. 

That was a lie of course, the day he trusted militias and mercs to handle federal level peacekeeping was the day he frenched his service pistol. The sheer gall of even suggesting such an action was madness and had started a spark of paranoia in his mind.

He was quite thankful when Minister Carl Jenkins showed up with news of Earth and Rico. It was both good and bad good, as immediately he deployed his Fleet to back up the western and southern fleets. 

However Jenkins had fanned the flames of his little fear, even mentioning that one of his agents, “Cerberus”, and by god were they a nightmare to learn about, had detected a paper trail leading from the Central Federation to every radical up north causing Tromblay shit. This would account for the odd numbers if some of those radical factions happen to be in those militias and mercenaries the governor prime wanted to use. He didn't know what the governor Primes overall plan had been for sure, but he could put a couple things together and the governor had mentioned wanting to possibly create an official draft or conscription law to deal with the bug Menace.

With the announcement of the end of the war however, he had put the kibosh on any large scale legislation regarding the military as at the time it was not necessary. While there were a few planets engaging in unofficial conscription, he had been willing to let it slide as they were truly in a tough spot, but now that the crisis had passed, as Sky Marshal, he took the official stance of “No. Demobilize now.” There were so many militias forming up now that he had to stamp down on it before they got any legitimacy or weaponry. Otherwise Central may end up like the North. Too many panicky people with guns ends up causing a lot of problems in a high stress end war situation 

It was also unallowable for ideological reasons. With numbers like what was suggested, spread out across large segments of the Federation it would be impossible to confirm if everyone who asked actually saw military action. Why did the governor Prime want to weaken the concept of citizens? He himself was a citizen and should understand the bond and duty required of those individuals who arised to citizenship? That was very concerning for him, and he would have no part of the Governors Prime’s plot.

“And then things get even more fucked up.” He muttered, looking over the treaty they were basically being forced to sign to end the war. Part of him did not want to accept this shit and just continue the war, but not only was he overruled by Sky Marshal Prime Hathaway, but things in the Federation was unraveling quickly, he’d gotten reports that the Skinnie in the System Alliances were protesting “Terran occupation” what happens if they broke into civil war? They get more spread out and more useless and get a worse deal if one at all if they continued the war with the bugs. The bright side was the legion had so far kept the Batarians busy and the various legions there had, even he had to admit, done well, and done a very good job on putting the various fires in the east out. 

The only option he had was to go along with this deal. Maybe get the Citadel to mediate bits of it as a neutral party. Once the bug war was over however, he needed to do a clean sweep of the Federation holdings, so they wouldn’t have this weak point in Federal unity when the inevitable next round of fighting reared its ugly head. Most importantly was ending the current Sky Marshal system. Riverfield’s war in the South was a stunning example for why one man having so much power was a bad idea. There were too many conflicts, to little oversight, and to many god damned aliens to leave the military in the hands of just four commanders. Hell, he doubted 20 would be enough for his purposes. 

The soothing sounds of a bell like stringed instrument idled their way into his private office. So comforting and quiet. ‘Maybe,’ Straker thought, yawning, ‘I should just close my eyes for a second. To think. Yeah.’

~[==|==]~

“-with the sighing of the peace treaty, the bug empire has promised to stay out of Terran space and remain in their quarantine zone, The bugs will also return captured Federal military personnel taken during the conflict in exchange for the return of several systems taken during the second bug war. According to the Federal Council, this will result in an honorable peace as this war has left both sides weakened and damaged, in need of recovery.” Neither the reporter nor the current viewer of the TV set looked convinced. 

“Governor Prime Charles Edinburgh was of an entirely different opinion, stating that the war should continue, however he was overruled by a fully reconvened council meeting conducted yesterday. 

“With the liberation of Earth and the bugs badly bloodied in their assault on the Federation, the council was more than willing to agree to the peace terms-” 

“BULL SHIT!” A remote control flew at the tv shutting it off.

~[==|==]~

Central Terran Federation, Earth, Budapest Military Hospital 2666GS/2338AD July 1st 

Sergeant Tanya Lorenzo seethed in rage as she looked at the dumbest propaganda she ever saw, nothing about the stories there matched up to what she had seen, and knew about the basic military situation. Sure the bugs were pretty beaten up here on Earth… but that was Earth, the bugs still had reserves and other armies out west, there was no way the bugs just surrendered because they got bloodied here. 

“Fucking lying shits, see if I ever believe Fednet again,” she muttered and held her hand to the side across her abdomen, with the war over the doctors had time to spare to properly fix the internal damage, which had resulted in a few painful replacement organs and synthetic organs transplants, along with a few new organs implanted in her in the hopes of preventing her dying from gangrene, and who knows what else. She’d been through too much shit to guess what she picked up in the fields, and more likely or not having a half dissolved liver was not good for her. On the bright side, her surviving members of her unit had started to really get into calling her ironsides, now that she really did have ironsides as the implanted casings covering her synthetic organs, allowing for easy access by the doctors to maintain them.

Joking cries of, “If only it was so easy for your normal organs.” Had met her ears a few too many times.

Besides sitting in this bed recovering, she’d been reading and watching the news, wondering what the hell was going on outside the confining walls of the hospital. As a result, she was getting a bit stir crazy. Sighing she pondered how much longer she would be interned in this hell before she could get back to her unit and make sure they were okay beyond the smiling faces they put on for her.

It was then an MP came flying through the closed hospital room door, snapping the surprisingly flimsy wooden door in half, “FUCK YOU! I’m seeing my goddamn bastard of a daughter right the fuck now!” A man dressed in a modified Terran Federation uniform demanded, tossing another MP off his shoulder as he entered the room. 

He caught sight of her as soon as he entered, “YOU!” He declared with unbridled menace, “You’re supposed to be in technical school young… Well you’re no longer a Lady I can guarantee that! You better have one hell of an excuse! Do you know how much you’ve fucked me? We’ll be lucky if she just murders us and not tortures us first!” Her father damn near yelled at her. 

“Umm, I learned it from you?” Tanya explained shakily, quite literally now shaking in her bed, her heart monitors and various sensors in the room starting to spike as she was very much afraid. 

“ME?! If you learned it from ME you would have committed manslaughter and be given the choice of conscription or hard labor! You’re 17 young lady, you lied about your age, name dropped me, and fell through the cracks of the system to get into the military underage. Do you understand the magnitude of your actions?” He seethed, still fighting off the MPs with both his hands as they tried to wrestle him to the ground.

If she could, Tanya would have shrunk back into her bed, “You’ve managed to piss off literally everyone in the institution. The Traditionalists want your head for breaking the Oath of the Citizen, the New Guard want you whipped and drummed out for falsifying records, the Post K Column would love to see you in Federal service for the rest of your adult life as punishment. Right now the only reason you aren’t picking up dead bodies on the battlefront before being shipped to a penal colony is because you’ve been crippled due to your injuries.” 

“Sir you have to leave! We can’t have her exposed to anyone before the trial!” One of the MPs shouted, trying desperately to wrestle his legs from under him, getting a boot to the face keeping him back for his efforts. 

He looked to him with a death glare, “And I’m now her legal advisor for her court martial, so get away from me and my defendant.”

The MPs looked at each other, one scrabbling over his arm, the other with a boot still in his face. After a moment of thinking they both came to the same conclusion. Pissed, they filed out. “Do you have to make an entrance where ever you go?” Tanya finally asked

She watched as he quietly shut the top half of the door, and then turned to her, the look of fury was still evident, “That wasn’t an act. I’m angry beyond belief at you. I was serious, lots of people want your head, but they're all too afraid to take it public due to your parentage. The child of two Klendathu war vets, getting a court martial for putting her life on the line, saving a waiting disaster nearly single handedly, and fighting on despite grievous injuries to the bitter end. They’re angry at you, I’m angry at you. Your mother was so livid when I met her that she nearly stabbed me with a service knife thinking I may be responsible.” He breathed deeply before pulling up a chair and sitting in it. He looked deeply at her and his look of anger and fury dissolved away. 

Tanya couldn't bare to look at him anymore, the shame and disgust that had always been there coming up like vomit. “I joined because of you. Mom always said good things about you, she had like a dozen boyfriends before she settled on Imran, but she never hid that picture of you both on Sanctuary, the last time you met right before K-Day. And then, years later, she finds you on the Citadel, drinking booze and convorting with two asari in your lap.” 

Her father nodded, almost sagely, and sighed, “I thought she was dead too. All records indicated it. The post Big K campaign was a mess, tens of millions thought dead returned from deep space or were recovered from worlds still kicking a decade later. I was hasty in assuming the worst.” 

“We… Haven't really talked about this ever. Have we?” Tanya finally admitted, looking down to her covered feet. Underneath the snow white comforter and sheets.

“No. No we haven’t.” They’d hardly met each other in fact, her mother had been so angry, so filled with pent up anger and worry, it had broken what had been between them and left a bitterness in the woman, and so her father she had only met a year or so ago in one brief day, left Earth and went to Shanxi, as far away as possible, with the highest paying job he could muster to put her through school. 

Tanya got on a more aggressive and derisive tone then she meant to, “Fuck I just wanted to be my own person!” She finally shouted out, “She always called me ‘the last precious piece of him’. This man I never knew, I never could meet since he was most assuredly dead.” Tears were starting to stream down her face, “I was that last precious thing, to precious to risk, to precious to ever let run wild. Everything was dictated in triplicate! I had to have perfect grades, I had to be perfect! AND she left sometimes a year at a time in the Fleet, fighting a war I was born into! Fighting for you! For your damned memory!”

“Goddamnit! What about me?! What about my memories of her? She wanted full control yet she was never there. Do you know how humiliating it is to return home to be told what to do by Sanctuary's upbringing AI? No boys, no friends, no nothing because she hadn’t put in specific commands to it to allow them. And then you come back and she goes one eighty! Everything about you was bad, he was a bad influence, I was bad for being from him and I needed more oversight.”

He nodded, “That better’s. Let it out.”

“Fuck I lied about my age, lied about where I was going. I was on EARTH! Fucking EARTH! No upbringing AI, just an easily distracted guardian for Luna technical college! I got the first shuttle to Earth I could possibly get and went to the first recruiting station I saw with a false ID I got on the premise of underage drinking! I didn’t want to do what Mom said anymore! I WANTED TO BE LIKE YOU! To go it alone and survive on my own. To be you. Not mom in the Fleet.” Tears were streaming down her face she was damn near bawling. She was still young. 

There was a low chuckle, then it transformed to a mighty laugh, “Just like a Silva. Just like a goddamned Silva. You got the family luck.” Tanya looked up, looked up to her father in a Legion uniform and a mighty smile with tears starting to form in his eyes, “Damnit kid.” He showed the recording wand in his pocket, “I think that's everything we need to get you clear of these charges. Now, your mother will really be royally pissed, but I think she still loves you, and I know for a fact Tanya, that you’re trooper material, and that you did what you did not to tarnish what it means to be a citizen.”

“Dad?” Tanya asked, not totally comprehending. 

“I’m not lying kid, I’m your defender in court. But enough about that, it's time you met my side of the family.” A scuffle on the other side of the broken door came back.

“What no you can’t fucking enter! She’s under police detention until-” 

“Heeeeey squirt! Uncle Howen here to light up your day!” A man’s head entered the room, a clean shaven face with brown hair and eyes and a smile perhaps too large to be comfortable.

“Yo I got the presents Jake, you fuck-” 

“This place is swanky-”

“Pile in ya bastards! But no touching the kid she’s fucked up!”

“Not as fucked up when we’ll take her drinking!” 

“Purple Lion needed some backup!? Blackie’s here to return that favor.”

“Can someone turn up the AC?”

People started to pile in the room, dozens in fact as it rapidly got crowded. She looked as each came by her bed and placed a small box or flowers on her body and started to squeeze in so as many people could enter as possible, she saw people of all colors and uniforms, and at the tail end, she saw her squad mates enter as well. Sergeant Major Ekdal, Sergeant Richtfeld, Kapmann, Jiro, Anderson. They stood before her bed, all smiling. Even Ekdal was smiling and she’d never seen him smile. 

“This is your other family Tanya. And we won’t leave you.” Most of them were people she didn’t know, and she looked across them all, not all smiled, but all looked at her with pride on their faces. “Come on let’s introduce them all to you.” Tribune Jake Silva said with a happy smile, “Hey Jo! JOOOO! Get your ass over here! Meet my teenaged fuck up! I don’t care you're in that far corner that’s no excuse!”

~[==|==]~

Central Terran Federation, Mars 2666GS/2338AD July 2

Ret. Colonel Roza Bereza looked at the burnt out remains of her farm with utter… Well rage would be expected but in actuality she as filled with remarkable apathy, she didn't let that show though, “God damn the bugs.” She snarled, putting up a facade of anger that didn’t exist past her skin. She did her job, she formed a militia, she fought the bugs.

But what dingleberry topped this shit cake was that Federal Command cracked. It was not hard to see this treaty as nothing more than surrender. The damn bugs had Earth by the balls and we blinked hard, and now, and now she had to hope the Federation didn’t disintegrate. 

She knew why they did it, a few of those bigger bug ships going STL straight into earth would just about destroy the planet ecologically and devastate the coastal regions. And if the Bugs offered a suitable olive branch, then yeah. All of them would swallow their pride, and honor, to accept that deal. She would have. It wouldn't stop opportunists though. Even with citizenship weeding out the incompetent and ideologically insane, people like Edinburgh would proceed to capitalize on it as much as they possibly could. 

Looking around at her burnt-out shell of home, she kicked a red rock of mars, if the war was still going on this would mean something, she would have given this for the cause for ultimate victory and destruction of the vile monsters from the west. No, now it meant nothing, just a burnt out home. 

Sighing, she went back to horse and mounted up, she needed to get to the nearest town put an insurance claim, hopefully, this was covered and she recovered something from this smoking pile of ash. Yeah, get out of the inner systems. Maybe resettle on Shanxi or some other virgin world?

Her horse whinnies at the prospect.

“Agreed. Someplace quiet, someplace nice.”

~[==|==]~

Central Terran Federation, Jupiter station 2666GS/2338AD July 15

Carl Jenkins relaxed as he sat at his desk, finally having returned home to the Joint Ministries Jupiter station. he’d been busy organizing a huge political conference so that the Federation could pull itself back together after the brief but ferocious war that had engulfed them and scattered the once tightly knit systems.

It had been a sobering reminder at just how VULNERABLE they had been. Even with their top of the line sensors, even with their best efforts and diligence. They had gotten complacent and allowed a previously thought dead enemy to return and cripple them in hours, previously hidden divisions in the Federation had erupted into full volcanoes of controversy and colonial patriotism. They had made the cardinal sin of empire making. In their haste and desperation to get ever more resources to fight a existential war, they had expanded too much too quickly. Even with their very lenient and well prepared colonial planning, they had left them alone too long to form their own opinions regarding their position in the Federation. Plans that would go through hundreds of years of work to form these colonies into self sufficient and self supporting members of the Federation were being overturned in the hope of being at the big boys table NOW, and not a hundred years later.

Normally it would have taken at least a few generations for this to have taken root, as many of the colonies were made up of people who had fled earth due to its increasingly inhospitable nature. Even their children could come and see the homelands of their parents and be amazed at the opportunity they had been given in the form of a new world, compared to the dry, desolate wastes of the arabian peninsula, compared to the humid equatorial hell hole that Australia had become. Compared to the marshy flooded shores of North America. 

And now they wanted to revolt from their mother, the Federation, their homeworld, over minor, trifling differences? He had no evidence, no paper trail, only the words of the clairvoyants to work off of. Civil war had been on the horizon, someone was eager to make a power vacuum, and a discontented populace. It’s what all the signs were leading to: plans to sacrifice earth, a full scale draft, funding of a massive civil war, a major political regime change in the works. It was all adding up but no one could be laid to blame. 

He had no proof of course, but he could make moves off his assumption and see what happened, at worst he just makes Edinburgh’s time as governor prime near fruitless, at best he prevents an authoritarian take complete power of the Federation and reshape it to his will. Though… Heliose Straker may be taking it a bit too far… Man had a good heart and a sharp mind to him, upon meeting him Jenkins would swear on his own life Straker would die before seeing the Federation become something it was not. But the man had become a radical in his time out of power.

The intercom chimed, “Sir, General Rico’s out here, he says he’s here to see you.”

“Rico? Let him in, and prepare some tea please.” Carl accepted, surprised. In the many years he’d been in the Special Service, Rico had never come visited his office, it was frankly ridiculously out of the way, mostly because after his last fuck up SICON wanted him as out of the way as possible so he couldn’t fuck up yet another project.

After a minute, Rico entered in his grey military uniform, it was devoid of of his numerous medals and ribbons, and was slightly ragged, alongside the bags under his eyes, however at the moment he was bidden to sit and he smiled, “You know Carl, I expected it to be more....”

“Super villain like?”

“I was going to say nerdy, but I have to admit the spartan qualities of your office are refreshing. I also was surprised you don’t have any ferret tubes.”

Jenkins smiled, “Military installations like this tend to prevent me from keeping ferrets, or holes in my floor that open into a pit of tiger bugs.”

Rico smiled, and then started to chuckle. 

Carl’s smile never faded, but a sad shade was in his eyes, “I knew you would hold the west, and make it home with a larger army than most would have guessed, the makeup of the army was... Surprising, but I knew you’d pull off a miracle. I know you well enough that I don’t need to be a mind reader to know how you’ll act.” His tone was entirely serious.

‘Probably because your a luckman’ he mused to himself, Rico had taken the psych test with him and failed badly… statistically impossible levels of bad. There was no way to be sure of his theory, so he kept it to himself, that and if he was wrong he did not want to be the guy who tried to pull Rico from the front lines… but it would likely be neccesary in this upcoming political shit storm.

Rico’s smile didn’t fade but he relaxed into his chair and gently slumped enough to show the weight and fatigue that plagued him.

Carl folded his hands before him and looked him dead in the eye, his smile wiped way. He knew. He knew even before he scanned Rico’s emotions, “Rico I know you hate the bugs, but the war is over. We lost. We gave one hell of a bloody nose but we lost the war before it even begun. There’s no shame in admitting defeat when such odds were against us.”

Rico’s smile faltered then drooped, “Huh... you don’t get it Carl, even after all these years. I mean yeah I personally want to go after the bugs, but even I can see the situation. We weren’t going to win, at least not cleanly. No I came here because I’m wondering if you have any connection to that three-headed dog that was running around while we were all busy trying to save the Federation.”

Carl sat up. Rico understood strategic and tactical intelligence and espionage services, having basically rewritten the Federation’s book on Maskirovka, but he had never shown any guile in the political or spy arena, “Rico I didn’t think you had espionage bone in your body.”

Rico’s smirk returned, “That’s true, but I have friends all over the place, friends who hear things, things like an organization that’s gathering the intel you used to get Straker to break ranks with the Governor Prime, have been hunting down some weird shit, securing and containing it not just in Federal space but throughout the galaxy.”

Carl looked pensive for a moment, “Well yes Rico I may be funding such organizations, but I don’t see why you're interested in them.”

“My interest does not lie with the organization itself, I’m more interested in that weird shit.”

Carl blinked a few times, “What? Why?”

Rico looked past Carl to the window behind him, out to space, with Jupiter taking up almost all of the scene, “Why did the bugs back out of the war? Their war with the coven’s gone on longer then we have been writing things down. The coven is the second oldest species we know about and leagues more powerful than us, but, as far as I know, they’ve never negotiated, when they put the Skinnies in the place we found them they never negotiated with them either. Maybe it’s a one war at a time doctrine, but… when I think about the oldest aliens we met, the Fourth, who hide out in their space just being as isolationist and inconspicuous as they can be. Add in what we know from the Citadel and what happened about 50 thousand years ago. It doesn’t add up… It got me thinking, maybe the bugs don’t want a long costly war because they know something we don’t. And that right there scares me, because that means they see us, either as a lesser threat to whatever they know, or they have plans for us. Remember what Naplon kept saying in the negotiations. ‘It would be a shame to kill such a young player.’”

Rico’s intense stare bored into Carl, “I think I see where your going with this Rico…” He thought for a moment, before sighing, and pulling up his computer, “I’ll have Cerberus contact you with everything we know so far, and also, Juan, congratulations on your promotion to Field Marshall.” 

“What? Field Marshal? I’ve not heard anything about that.” Field Marshal was typically a position for prospective Sky Marshalls, to get them their required experience in other fields.

“Yup, Straker and Hathaway both agreed, you’re almost certain to get the Marshallship of the West, whether you want it or not my friend.” Rico looked worried on that, Carl just smiled, “Straker’s making some big changes, but one thing he is not changing is that there will be one person in charge of keeping an eye on the bugs. And that’s you.”

~[==|==]~

Eastern Terran Federation, Shanxi 2666GS/2338AD August 1

Tribune Jake Silva huffed his way up the stairs to the old and former governor's manor, previously it had been General William’s homestead before the Siege of Shanxi, and after it got leveled in the fighting, had been rebuilt by basically everyone who could to make a huge manor for their wounded war hero. As he became governor he made it the Governor’s Manor, and after he resigned from office, left it behind as the traditional headquarters of MI on Shanxi and as a military museum, electing to settle down further east in the Mormon Forest with his family, away from the public eye. The place had been hastily repurposed for the military after William’s moved out, as they began construction of a bigger Governor's Manor on the other side of town, where they were planning to make a government district to house Colonial Command in the region. 

The manor was beautiful US Colonial era style design, set atop a high hill with a carved marble stone stairway up the hill, surrounded on all sides by smaller squat bunker like protrusions where various command centers and rooms were located under the hill, atop the level concrete protrusions were small stands or tables where dozens of military officers and tourists sat, to rest, eat, and talk. 

The manor itself was a three story tall building, the front facade was made of ten marble pillars set in the dorian style, with a wide iron reinforced door taking up the center, windows lined the entire building, peering into the hectic work of contractors and military engineers hastily moving out William's old furnishings, and implacing new furniture and sets for the museum and military work to be done. 

While it was a beautiful building, made all the more impressive with how quickly it was assembled, he was annoyed he had to go to some damn meeting about babysitting the civilians that were coming out east. Most were coming from the west so they would know how to protect themselves for the most part, but with the slowly declining state of affairs with the Batarians they had to draw up plans and ideas for maintaining peace with the pirates in waiting. 

The attack on Kamulon and several other systems have been just a taste of what was to come he was certain of it, while no one had solid proof, except MilInt, those creepy psychics, they had nothing to pin the attacks on the Hegemony. Therefore the Federation still had to nominally play nice with the Hegemony as well. Especially since they couldn't piss the Citadel council off, not when they owed the council a huge pile of money that needed to be repaid ASAP. The Federation did NOT want to be in debt ever, a lingering pain of the Disorders was the mass fear of national debt. 

Frankly, Silva thought, the best thing that could happen to the Citadel, was to be integrated into the Federation, and he was sure he was not the only one who thought that, if the rumors about the appended deal being offered to the Quarians were any indication, the Federation was looking to include some of the more minor powers at the very least to be integrated, well either that or they were on the verge of civil war… probably for the best he was not the guy who decided diplomacy. 

“I can’t wait ‘til I retire…” He muttered, hoping behind his mask of stoicism that being nearly twenty minutes late would piss off Colonel Nguyen, some big wig from Zebra Division or something. 

Reaching for the door before it blew off its hinges. 

~[==|==]~

Dagar Dezor looked up from the bushes he’d been hiding in, the bomb he placed to kill off the Federation Commanders had finally gone off. With satisfaction, he knew sending in a letter bomb would work. The Salarian stood up and looked at the building as the fire began to spread in the former foyer. He didn’t need to kill all the commanders, indeed, the contract was on the Tribune of the Foreign Legion, sent out by anonymous mail. Likely as retribution for what happened on Kamulon, a lot of Batarians wanted the man dead for what had happened there. 

Having seen the commander go flying with the door smashing his entire body. It felt safe to assume the man was dead now. He had decided to go big since he could never find a right time to kill that man when he was alone, he’d been trying for two weeks now, and each time something would interfere. Well, not this time this time he was damn sure-

There was resounding splash from the artificial pond behind him, followed by a continuous non-stop swearing in english. Confused Dagar turned and saw that the man who he previously thought dead was standing back up, remarkably uninjured. The solid metal and wood door floating around him, its surface scorched heavily, blood ran from a new scar on the left side of his face, where it was black and swollen, his eye there seeming to have been damaged by splinters from the door but was only bloodshot. 

He stared at the impossible sight with dumbfounded amazement, if he believed in the cycle of life stuff he’d been taught when he was young, he’d believe this man did something very good in his previous existence to warrant such divine intervention and protection. At this point Dagar had enough of trying to do this quietly, the man was right here and vulnerable. Pulling out his concealed pistol he made to fire… He was about to fire when a crowd of military officers and other persons began running between him and his target, just like that time he tried to kill Silva with a sniper rifle before. By the time the crowd had run by he saw just a flash of Silva and fired. However as he fired he apparently hit an Asari, who now that he looked closely had been attempting to stab him. 

As Silva lifted and threw the much lighter asari maiden away, he was immediately beset by what appeared to be her partner, a Turian with black face paint who moved to shoot him. This of course ruined his own shot as Silva, almost insanely, began to dodge and weave and narrowed the few meters between him and the Turian, tackling the Turian. 

“YOU! YOU’RE DEAD MOTHERFUCKER!” Silva screamed, drawing a hidden knife on his person and proceeded to attempt to kill the Turian with his knife. Dagar took this chance, and sprinting up while no one was looking. 

Silva was still struggling to force his blade into a weak point in the Turain’s carapace at the neck. As Dagar leveled his pistol at the back of Silva’s head he was tackled by a uniformed turian with black carapace and white face paint. Screaming obscenities regarding his parentage at his face. 

As more people began to be aware of the second incident in their midst, they began to approach to try and restrain Silva from fully killing the Turian under his body, “WHAT THE HELL MAN!? I WAS LATE FOR TWENTY MINUTES! WHY DOES THAT DESERVE THREE ASSASSINS?!” Silva screamed, as he was physically dragged off the Turian and escorted away, cursing all the while towards the Manor.

~[==|==]~  
To be continued


	15. From 2339AD to 2349AD

Citadel space, Citadel station, Citadel Council 2667GS/2339AD January 1

Councilor Tevos woke from her bed with a start. Her emergency comms were blaring, which was not something that had happened in a long time. Stumbling out of her sheets she hit the receiver, “Councilor Tevos,” Matriarch Lidanya saluted, appearing on the holo stand, “I’m sorry to wake you at this hour but we have a situation that is well above my pay grade.”

Tevos blinked in an attempt to clear her eyes, “Matriarch Lidanya? What is above the paygrade of an admiral of the Citadel Defense Fleet, and the Destiny Ascension?”

“First contact councilor, right on our doorstep, or better to say right next to my ship.” 

Lidanya sent images right to Tevos’ communication panels. She clicked it and found something unnerving to say the least, a ship had in fact pulled in to anchorage right next to the Destiny Ascension, but any thought of it being a small craft that could have pulled that off was dashed by the sheer size. She reckoned it was twice the size of a Terran dreadnought, around a kilometer in length but thinner, more pointed. It was made of a prismatic, rigid, almost crystalline material in its appearance, as it scanned back toward the engine compartment where three wings sprouted from the main body, it’s hull was painted white, with blue tapering onto the edges, glowing with unnatural colors that seemed to change at the drop of hat, the entire ship was shaped like a giant dart, with the wings tapering and curling on themselves, adding a aesthetic feel to the ship, “Admiral how did that ship get there!” Tevos demanded, fighting to keep panic from her voice.

“We don’t know! One moment space was clear, the next it was there, apparently a few people in an observation deck watched it materialize but none of our sensors picked anything up before hand, and no one in the fleet or the station did either, for everyone its as if it it just appeared.”

“Has it made any other hostile moves?” 

“No, but we did receive a message.” She began to read, “From the honorable Mistress of House [Dove] of the Divine Afroditi Imperium, we come bearing the laurels of peace, to ask for the Citadel to stop insulting us with it’s hostile actions and meddling in our gods’ appointed territory and affairs.”

It took Tevos a good moment to puzzle it out, and to wipe the fatigued from her mind…. “Oh no.” 

“Ma’am, you will have to make your decision quickly, the Terran ships in system are preparing a battle line and I can only delay Sky Marshal Chavez so long before she goes off kilter again!” Lidanya announced as she turned to answer a report, “Cancel that Ma’am, more Terran ships are entering Citadel space from the relays and their outpost in the Nebula, I think they’re bringing in at least a full flotilla.” 

Tevos knew enough to figure out what they meant by meddling, the Coven, or Afroditi as they now introduced themselves, saw the Terrans as a disobedient subspecies that should have folded the moment they tried to reconnect with their space. They must have learned of the Citadel by way of their supposed spy network, and taken issue with the fact the Citadel had ANY agreement with the Terrans at all, but surely that must have known of the Citadel beforehand, why would they make the move now?

“Admiral, send a message back greeting them to the Citadel as honored ambassadors of their people, and that we will meet with them to discuss their grievances first thing in the morning!” She ordered, her mind working on a general strategy to avoid a bad first contact. If their reputation in Terran space was anything, one false move could lead to war. 

She had much to plan before morning would arrive, calling up the other councilors, who were similarly awake, they were formally informed of what was going, an unnecessary formality, as it would be expected of them to have been informed by their own fleet admirals. She then received, five minutes afterwards on the dot, a call from ambassador Maghernus who had an uncharacteristically stern look to his eyes. She knew enough about the Coven and what happened with the Terran-Coven first contact, she knew that she needed their expertise to ensure that whatever powers they hinted the Coven at having, it would not affect them as well. 

“Good morning Councilor.” Maghernus greeted dryly. “I’ve managed to forestall Sky Marshall Chaves’ attack. She should be pliable for the time being. In the meantime we’re bringing aboard a platoon of specialists. We don’t expect issue with House Dove, we’ve spoken with them before, but never so close.” He looked to the side as he was given a set of papers, “Morning? Right then. We’ll rush our efforts. We need a full access to the Citadel Tower, but other than that we should have it set and ready.” He then without preamble or even allowing her to get a word in, ended the call. 

Definitely ominous.

~[O]~

And so, by the time they were scheduled to come aboard, everything was ready and they made sure, on Ambassador Maghernus’ suggestion, to only allow them to send five of their people over. If the whispered rumors among the Terran personnel were true, that would be barely enough to kill everyone on the station if the Coven so desired it.

Tevos prayed to Athame. They did not need an incident. News reporters were already calling about the “Mystery” ship, they needed to keep this as quiet as possible as they didn’t need media or citizens getting too close or interfering. Everyone was already jumpy when another patrol of twenty Terran ships transitioned into system as well just in the last hour, with nearly two hundred already in system all on Admiral Chaves’ order.

Come artificial morning, the council was convened and awaited in the hanger, as a Coven diplomatic vessel, a tear drop shaped ship with no visible methods of propulsion or any seams of any kind. It elegantly hovered in the air, and refused to use the docking clamps as a perfect circle opened in its hull and the procession of five Coven literally floated down to the deck of the landing bay.

There was a very human look of disgust in all of their faces. With the two rear guards in full battle dress, a full sealed segmented armor with clear crystalline wings that spread two meters at full extension leading out from their backs. They held rifle approximations, they were small, almost thin and stick like, like one could break it. Two, well they looked to be handmaidens flanked the ambassador, both of them dressed in plain floral green robes that overflowed, while the Ambassador was dressed in a skin tight suit, with a white top that served to be suitably tight to show off her assets, while she wore a cloak, or cape, of an animal pelt of some kind. Its fur trimming a luscious deep crimson, of human blood. 

Her eyes, unlike all the others, were also visible, and were a maelstrom of fire and color. That as soon as the invisible barrier all around them popped, ended. And was replaced with a look of pure, utter disgust and disdain, as if she had just smelt a rotting corpse, or was viewing a particularly abominable sight. 

Indeed that last feature, was mimicked across all of their faces, the two rear guards even stepped around as if their feet were sticking to the ground, immediately turning and looking around with weapons drawn, as if searching for unseen foes in the cavernous open bay. 

She approached, and before Tevo’s could speak, demanded, “Dispense with the pleasantries, I wish to leave the Abattoir as soon as possible. Lead us to where we will be doing business.” Her voice may have been harmonic, melodic even, but it was ruined by the pure disgust and a touch of pain hidden within.

Tevos bowed, “Of course, we will introduce ourselves as we move. It shouldn't be longer than-” She was once more interrupted as the Ambassador began to walk forward and shrugged past.

“I said dispense with the pleasantries! Just being here makes me sick.” She repeated, her voice almost filled with gagging. 

As she stormed past Maghernus, he had a smug smile and was wearing a pair of sunglasses, “Perhaps you should have swallowed your pride and wore the full body suit.” He poked at them with biting emotion backed into his words.

“Quiet child.” Was his only reply. Like a mother reprimanding a child who had a point.

~[O]~

So far this entire engagement had been far from what Tevos expected, and as they were all silently ferried by grav cars to the Citadel tower, they now all stood in the mostly vacant council chambers. They had thought about doing this behind closed doors, but Maghernus had suggested an open space to allow more room in case of combat and to allow his personnel to have adequate space to work in.

“This will not end well,” Valern cursed, shaking his head, “An already agitated foreign ambassador who is unknown in every possible way with supposed mind controlling abilities and no previously stated demands? Not a formula for anything good.”

“If that’s the case we must be at our best.” Tevos replied from her spot, “The only reason we're meeting them in person is because Maghernus actually vouched for these [Doves]. We must not show weakness.” Looking to both her compatriots they nodded firmly. Tevos had to admit, speaking to people the Terrans considered Ardat Yakshi was not easy for anyone.

Moments later their “guest” entered. If Tevos were to describe them up from on her traditional perch, and not as an equal in the hanger, they were a light blue, if not for their hair and an air of smug superiority on a level she didn’t think she ever saw, they could have been mistaken for asari. It was interesting to see that they had managed to cover up their initial disgust and discomfort from entering the station, but she could detect it in little bursts here and there as they advanced. 

Their clothing gave them a stark image, it would appear they had changed in the air cars into something more fitting, the two guards in the back of the square appeared to be wearing white decorative armor, polished until it gleamed in the lights of the council chamber, with a dark purple bodysuit underneath barely poking out. But unlike asari armor models which were form fitting, theirs was bulkier, like the Terrans, but unlike the Terrans it had, a touch of elegance to its angular forms. 

Where the Terrans had hard lines, and armored shells indicative of mass manufacture, these almost looked hand crafted, each armor plate held gold relief's engraved into their shells, neither had any similarity to one another. It was hard to tell from this distance. The handmaid's had remained unchanged, now that she watched them more closely, they approached in step and made no attempt to look, examine, or even so much as deviate from the fixed line of sight. Either unimpressed with the beauty around them or blind to it.

The ambassador had change significantly, now wearing a pure white cape, her bodysuit had changed to the deepest purple of space. It was at this moment Tevos figured out what their game was… this was a show, they were showing themselves off to the universe, they wanted attention, much like how the Terrans acted when first introduced. But for what reason was the next question. 

Tevos silently cleared her throat, then spoke,“Greetings honorable representative of the Divine Afroditi Imperium. May I have the honor of your name? I know you said you were from the house of [Dove]?”

She looked more annoyed than anything but she spoke, her voice easily echoing across the entire chamber with no need for amplification, “I am Ambassador Keia, daughter of the noble Ma’cha, scion of House-” She spoke, but no words were heard everyone’s minds felt an oncoming wave of pure power emanate from Keia, “-Speaker for the Afroditi and its benevolent gods of the sun and moons.” She held her head high, and spoke with unquestionable authority. 

Tevos nodded, “The council welcomes you Ambassador Keia, Daughter of Ma’cha. I’m councilor Tevos, of the Asari republics, to my left is Councilor Valern, of the Salarian Union, and on my right is Councilor Gallius of the Turian Hierarchy. Together we welcome you to the Citadel. For record keeping, may we ask what has spurred you to come here this day, we’ve known of your existence for almost as long as we’ve known of the Terrans, I must assume you’d have known of us at least half that time?”

Keia held a half smirk, “We’ve known of your existence since your arrival.”

“Can you… clarify?” Gainus asked the question they were all wondering, as Keia left it off with no explanation.

“Since your species set foot on this mausoleum, this Abattoir. We’ve reached here long before any of you even attained space travel. We discarded it almost as soon as we arrived. We had hoped to set explosive charges to destroy this foul place. Those plans were disrupted when we encountered…. Well, we’ll get into that soon.” Keia had an unmoving scowl as she spoke, as she dredged up memories, of what Tevos and none of the councilors would know.

And before they could speak in alarm or outrage, Keia cleared her throat, and then began an obviously rehearsed speech, “We have been commissioned by house Shrike, specifically under the Queen Meliana. You see, the Terran Federation has exceeded many expectations the great mothers laid before them. They’ve fought hard for their place on the stage of the galaxy, they managed to beat the lesser bugs after all, but you can’t take the stage without making enemies. And they’ve made many, if you had not been there to broker a peace settlement between them and the Petolomaics, they would have logically annexed as much as possible, to safe guard their borders in future conflicts with….” 

Here she pauses, and then laughed loudly, echoing across the chamber as if it were but a narrow corridor, “Well everyone! This we believed would have been the driving force to a serious Fourth intervention in Terran space, bringing the Fourth into the war firmly against them in the North, absolutely annihilating those weakened defenses and likely in short order absolutely overrunning the northern frontier and then their heartlands. The full extent to the devastation the ultimate outcome of the war is unclear but we’d have ‘put money’ on the Fourth coming out on top… Barely, before we swooped in and crushed them, and arrived as the rightful heros we are to our wayward cousins and former subjects.” She had a very satisfied smile on her lips as she for a moment descended into grandeur and inner dreams.

“Wayward Cousins-” Valern’s attempted question cut off as Keia’s momentary trance and she grew a deep scowl.

“Enough questions. As I said, we wish to be off this station as soon as possible and will tolerate no more delays, if you wish to engage in inane questioning you can do so aboard our ship. We wish to leave before the…. Demons return to investigate our renewed presence.”

Tevos had enough of her attitude, she was on the citadel the safest place in the galaxy, with a slowly growing armada of terran ships outside, there was no possibility of an attack succeeding at this very moment, “Enough Keia. We Asari were already colonizing space 5000 years ago, we have never encountered such entities like you describe, the Protheans built this great station and the relays, what you imply with your titles and words seem untruthful.”

Keia sneered for just a millisecond, anyone lesser in the political arts would have missed it, “Oh my child, I’m afraid to inform you that you are 15,000 years our junior for this station.”

Valern seized on it, “Are you saying, your people have been in space for 20,000 years?”

Keia laughed once more, starting to pace, “By the Sun and Moon you really are determined. Fine. No I’m saying we’re much older, we’ve been fighting the Demons at the edge of our territory since we came to his Abattoir, it was only a few year after we first met them we encountered the insufferable bug menace and we developed to our current forms. Our once great empire crumbling, and devoting everything to war. We had been in space for thousands of years before discovering the Abbatoir. It is only recently the tide of battle has been upset by the Terran’s unexpected victory. They managed a slight victory where it took trillions of my kind, and all of our uplifted effort to even come close to the level of survival they attained. We have been left with one goal and that goal has not changed, to defeat the empire that took our place. And after thousands of years tailoring our minds and bodies in the pursuit of the empress, She Whose Mind That Rends, will rend the menace’s from their many limbs, and whose very existence will allow us to push the Imperium to new heights as her psychic mastery will assure the arachnids destruction. We have returned since we have felt close to that goal and we want our ancestral lands back.”

Keia smiled and flicked back her hair, “Which is why we're here, we would like to register a complaint with the inclusion of the Terran Federation, Systems Alliance, and the Petolemaic Hegemony, into your union, they are our children, and are our subspecies. Letting them in when you haven't even asked their true and rightful masters if its acceptable is an insult to not just my people but our Queen’s. Add on top the refusal to even open diplomatic channels with us and we stand insulted and our lands infringed upon by foreign warships and traders. Why… it’s almost cause for war! Unless… maybe if we receive a similar offer now?”

It took a moment for Tevos to register what the Coven had just asked, “Your government is seeking membership with the Citadel?” Amazed by the sudden flip of emotions and requests.

Keia started to laugh once again echoing across the chamber, “We’d of course refuse such a silly offer, but the fact we weren't offered at all, as we are one of the oldest species we know of in space, is an insult to our prestige as a people! Imagine if your own daughter was invited to a social gathering but the host hasn't even considered inviting YOU? We want recognition, we want trade. If those two are satisfactory as the campaign with the bugs goes on, perhaps we may consider more open communication if things turn out to be useful.”

Every counselor looked to each other. And found no fault with the suggested accommodations, “On the condition that Ambassador Maghernus sits in on these deals with a team to ensure you are not playing your ways with us.”

Keia smiled, an almost… Lascivious grin across her face, the blink and you’ll miss it licking of lips, it was gone as soon as it arrived, “That will have to do for now.” Making to turn away without even being dismissed, Keia started to march to the exit.

“Wait!” The distinct flange of the so far silent Gallius echoed out.

Keia, for her part halted and looked over her shoulder, “You keep calling the citadel an abattoir. Why?” Gallius asked quietly. 

She turned fully around, her retinue doing likewise,“I thought it simply superstition and myth at first, due to our first arrival’s violent confrontation with the demons and the assumed butchering of those left behind for parts by them. I’ve seen how those cybernetic monsters fight, how they are unrelenting, uncaring, unfeeling, with no emotion beyond rage, pain, and murderous intent. I’ve fought them and every night I’m lucky if I didn't receive the nightmares their mere presence and their acts bring to me to this day. But the moment I stepped foot on this station. The moment I felt its sickly deathly aura envelope me like a rotting corpse in a room. This place is soaked in death, and fear, I can feel the shadows of those long dead, pain and horror seeping from the floor, the walls, the very air itself. I see images flash by my sight even now as I breathe and feel the atmospheric particles in the air. To even touch the walls or metal with my bare hands would be pure agony as I’d be forced to relive the unlimited amount of suffering and carnage. The feel of death is so concentrated, so supersaturated in this very location. This is no capital, no crossroads system, No space station. This is a tomb, where the cycle of death begins anew. Why did you settle here?”

Tevos looked at the Coven a bit shocked by those almost prophetic words, “We settled this place as the capital because it’s a natural center point for the relay network, and this is where we first met the salarians.”

Keia’s smile took on an almost sickly look, “So you settled this place because all roads lead here, that may explain why I see what I see.”

“What do you see?” Valern asked, curiosity getting the better of him. 

Keia straightened up, and looked at her left hand, gloved as it were, she removed the black form fitting feature, revealing a grossly scared, mutilated appendage that had scar tissue so thick one would almost believe it had been put through a meat grinder. Producing a knife, one no longer than her middle finger, and no wider than a pen, she announced, the room brimming with a static shock, “Words are impossible to use, to describe such things adequately.” 

Suddenly from all the upper viewing tiers, from behind every secret door, and every available entryway, poured in a company of Terran soldiers and pathfinders, many bearing various witch hunter's logos, all pointing their weapons right at the small party, shoulder to shoulder there was so little room for such great numbers of the Terrans, but they could not stop Keia using the small blade to slit across her heavily scarred hand, forming a deep gash that started to have blood seep into open air. 

“No words can truly describe MURDEROUS BLOOD RAGE!” She yelled, echoing in everyone’s mind, sending many of the soldiers reeling and even the councilors threw up their hands to cover their faces to protect them from some unseen force. Only Maghernus and a few in his retinue in black trench coats and light armor held their ground firmly, themselves screaming in agony as they got the first glimpses of what she was projecting.

Tevos barely peeked out through her upraised arms to see what was happening. Clenching her fist, Keia’s blood charged with her psychic power, flowing from her wound to sizzle on the ground. Sizzling blood revealed a vapor that formed little tears in reality, as soon as enough had gathered on her hand she threw out the blood before her, and its smoking vapor quickly filled the room allowing the images to come, to invade their minds.

A scene of the citadel engulfed in blood and fire, it's thin atmosphere sky blackened by thick smoke, it was simple mass murder. They didn't come from the outer relays, every time, as the surface and interior of the citadel started to fill with smoke, everytime the relay closed and black ships by the hundred filled the interior space of a closed citadel, and begin to land. Tevos heard the screaming, an entire station was alive with the sounds of fear and terror. Aliens of all shapes, sizes, colors, it didn’t matter your make or build, you were dragged, screaming from the halls dead or alive, and impaled, bodies numbered so great they filled the corridors to impassibility. And then from the tall luminescent spires of impaled bodies, they rose again from the spikes, and more were added, and it goes on. For eternity. Trillions died, dying, helpless even as they fought back desperately. Nothing would stop the black ships. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing would stop the harbinger of death for the galaxy, for it was time to reap them all.

For what seemed like eternity it unfolded, but was only thankfully a few tens of seconds, and then the rift vaporized into thin air like the smoke it was. All around the humans were on the ground crying out, mewling, begging for the images to stop. A gunshot went off and one of the black trench coated psionics of Maghernus’ retinue committed suicide. Tevos picked herself up, using her lectern to try and stand once more, her nose was bleeding a dark purple. Valern was unmoving, gibbering madly. Gallius, amazingly, remained standing, his jaw slack, and his eyes starting to glaze. 

“Impossible.” He only whispered. 

“Perhaps,” Keia retorted without emotion, regloving her hand. Her two handmaidens, were fuming smoke out their mouths, and where their eyes and ears would be. They lay on the ground dead. “But no matter, it was a pleasure speaking to you all.” She curtsied them, “I hope our diplomats can come to a favorable agreement, and I do hope I didn’t break Councilor Valern permanently.”

The Witch left, her bodyguards shouldering the dead handmaidens without a word, only equal looks of terror on their face. From that morning on Tevos had nightmares on what the full extent of the Coven’s power really was. And what power could bring them so low.

~[==|==]~

Undisclosed location October 20 (2671GS/2343AD) 

Jack Harper span in his chair for a minute, before he came to stop and rested his legs on his desk. The look on his face was sour and dulled, a man who had failed. Sighing heavily in disgust as the news reporter continued recounting the casualty counts among the Fleet in the last assault, he muted it, “Well that war went as swimmingly as the last.” He commented bitterly to Ben. Referring to what was being called by the press as the Batarian War, and what he called an avoidable joke.

“Well, we did win didn’t we?” Ben offered from his seat, looking as tired as Jack did. 

Jack scoffed, “Barely this time, because we fought over worlds no one cared about. It was buffer space nothing more.” Jack returned. The “Conflict” as others wanted to call it had been sparked by an unending series of slave raids on border worlds in the Skyllian Verge, culminating on the planet of Mindoir, an official Terran colony. It didn’t take a psychics to figure out it was orchestrated by the Batarian government against general human expansion into the Skyllian Verge. As a message that the Federation and the Systems Alliance would not be intimidated, both had sent task forces to protect the planets and patrol trade routes. This had then started a small secret war in the region, just as Edinburgh had wanted. The Batarian navy was no easy opponent at times, as they served to protect their “Citizens” who were being “assaulted” by Terran and SA cruisers. 

But while the void war was contested, often with stalemates between Terran Cruisers and Batarian Cruisers holding a stand off between each other while the pirates with their ill gotten goods and kidnapped colonists escaped. The Mobile Infantry and SA Marines were superior soldiers however, and they held their assigned posts with gusto.

That was until Mindoir. God that mess. The MI garrison overcome with nearly a hundred thousand pirates and slavers versus just their brigade of a thousand, surrendered without a fight. The colony was cleaned out, everyone they could find enslaved, and the garrison forced into the town square and massacred. It’d been an unmitigated PR disaster, and a rallying cry for war. The colonists were then offered back as ransom to the Terran Federation. 

Edinburgh formed a coalition of governors and voted to wipe the Verge clean of the pirate and slaver menace by any means necessary. By any means included destroying any ships interceding between them, whether Batarian, Citadel, or otherwise. Fast forward a whole five hours later when Sky Marshall Chaves, under direct edict from the Governor majority, and with Sky Marshall Straker’s backing, gave the order to lift their guns and to send in the Legion to garrison the worlds “To the last breath”. A few minutes later just after the orders were given, a Batarian patrol group tried to protect a known slaver fleet. The entire fleet of both the Batarian and slaver ships were fired upon without warning or offered surrender and then annihilated to the last life pod. Any slaver who surrendered was given impromptu court martial and executed by asphyxiation, stapled to the hulls of their ships.

There was little Jack or anyone could do to halt the war then. 

And so it began, the task forces working together, they began to actively hunt down both slaver and Batarian patrols in their “Side” of the Skyllian Verge and pretty soon war broke out across the Verge and even into the Attican Traverse, as the conflict spiralled out of control into the entire region of space and even beyond as MI patrol groups even actively hunted down Slaver outposts and Batarian freeports throughout the Galaxy with little more warning or orders than Sky Marshall Chaves’ edict. The chaos of the early conflict was undoubtedly Edinburgh’s doing, as he’d been whipping up the military into a vengeful frenzy all the while. This left the already fuzzy borders disorganized as many of the fleets were too busy hunting down pirates and raiders to be ready for the prepared Batarian counter attack and declaration of open war. 

The council sat this out, horrified by humanity's aggressive actions, but too against Batarian slavery and thinly veiled attempts at seeming the victim, when they obviously were just as guilty in starting this war, actively poking the bear. At first the Batarians had made excellent progress overrunning the few border flotillas who had remained in position, and besieging the outer colony worlds. Their infantry was still pretty bad, and the Legion and MI had been a lot more focused on their direct objectives than the Fleet had been. So they held out for enough time that the Fleet managed to regroup and made a much more messy counter attack organized in a few days. 

Driving them back to the mass relays, it allowed some time to organize for the Fleet, bring up specialized Mobile Infantry Divisions for invasion, and massing several full Fleets to force their way through the relays. Despite early hiccups the public was fully for it, Fednet reporters were everywhere reporting on everything for everyone. From logistical preparations to interviews with trooper and commanders alike.

And months later, the logistics set up, the Fleet massed and briefed, sim training being conducted round the clock. The Fleet advanced. 

Right into the meatgrinder. Federal advantages in range and strategic mobility were negated through the tight bottlenecks and minefields around the relays, the Batarians had been preparing while the Federation had been as well. The first few fleets sent through less than half a dozen relay choke points were mauled badly, the Batarian’s heavier armor, defense platforms, and heavier main cannons telling the tale against many mostly unshielded Federal ships. And when those same fleets broke through, overrunning the relay jumpzones and destroying their defenses through sheer weight of numbers, the Batarians organized a well rehearsed fighting retreat, falling back behind the next set of relays. 

Leaving the border worlds undefended without fleet assets. And leaving behind badly damaged Terran fleets, some having reached up to 50% combat damaged and combat ineffective. And the Batarians on those border worlds fought with an unexpected zeal, but were swiftly crushed by specialized MI divisions and the Legion’s Turian forces. 

And the Batarians apparently didn’t even want to bother to take them back, having stripped them of the upper class and anything militarily useful. So barely 4 months into the war, Fleet not eager to headbutt another wall, and the populace still burning with rage, the Citadel finally stepped in, and settled a peace in the Batarian’s favor. The Batarians would need to be paid reparations, and a demilitarization of the border must commence.

This of course failed to solve ANY of the root problems of the conflict and may as well have been made for round two in mind. Maghernus tried to explain this, but Councilor Tevos would have none of it. Insisting the Federation respect council directives of peace, as they were a part of the Council now, and were to not war with other Council members. 

Of course the Batarians then jumped on this public chastisement and tried to push for more, asking for a “resolution” to the Skyllian Verge territorial dispute. Here Councilor Gallius responded that the Skyllian Verge was open to colonization by everyone, Batarian, Terran, Salarian, ect. 

A shit show, through and through.

Eva turned in her seat as she nursed a well earned drink, “One good thing coming out of this, the Governors are waking up to the fact the Fleet’s ships are starting to get obsolete.” Seated by the fireplace Jack had installed to break up the dullness of the room, Eva just about downed her shot in one go, “Right mess that, the Fleet’s been screaming about it since the Siege of Terra.” She added, “But now I think some impetus has been made for Naval funding instead of reconstruction funding.” 

Jack refilled her drink and sat down across from her, “Ugh…. knowing our current political landscape it could end up as another fight between the traditionalists and the reformers.” Jack groused, thinking about the last five years. Ever since the end up of the third bug war, they had a slowly unraveling political nightmare at the top levels. He didn’t know what exactly was going on, but Edinburgh and Straker either never agreed on anything or Straker reinterpreted what Edinburgh ordered. 

Edinburgh talked about building a stronger army to defeat the “enemy”, whatever that was had proven to be deliberately nebulous. Was it the bugs? The Petolemaics? Maybe today it was the Batarians, or internal resistance. 

Straker had taken this to launch a recruitment drive and start cycling out active duty commanders, decentralizing SICON, giving field commanders more autonomy, especially in the great empty wastes of the Attican Traverse and the Skyllian Verge. He even entirely redrew theater command from 5 Sky Marshalls to 14! Three for the bugs, one coven, one Fourth, one Batarians, one Skinny, one System Alliance, one citadel, one Skyllian Verge, as well as Earth Command, west, east, and central command. And that didn’t even include Sky Marshall Prime Hathaway! 

All told 14 Senior officers commanded the entirety of Terran Federation Military forces. So many people to keep track of that further multiplied as it went down. An absolute security nightmare, almost deliberately invented just for that very scenario!

Then Edinburgh had demanded for the formation of Colony Guards, forming the equivalent of press ganged enforced service militias. Outright conscription! Straker, thank god, had limited such a call to arms heavily. Instead of a full mobilization of the entirety of a world’s manpower, had negotiated it to a semi professional corp of Colony Guards to serve in times of great emergency and need to relieve the stress on Federal branches of government. 

To add to help ameliorate the pill for the old guard and many reactionaries, these militias could not be levied off world for whatever reason bar another code black, a scenario that would result in full and immediate mobilization anyways. Their officers had to come from retired citizens, of which there was a major surplus now that Straker initiated his officer cycling process, and it would be a path to citizenship of a 20 year service term, whereupon completion a board of citizens would judge if they were worthy of the title. The bill passed with only a handful of votes in its favor.

With this surge of manpower had come for calls of equipping this militia. Most governors weren’t interested in arming their colony guards with outdated and down right poorly maintained light armor, and worn out pre bug war moritas past their shelf life. Most would have to make due with just that, as tens of billions of the morita rifles were produced, and the only armor available was light armor. To solve this, a huge armament bill had been passed, once again only narrowly, as the funds actively competed with reconstruction aide, war loan payments, and modernization programme for the Mobile Infantry and the Fleet. It was a classic case of too many important things, not enough capital to spread around. It had ended up that the armed forces would have to face the cuts, make due with their current obsolescent equipment and warships. 

This industrial initiative was one Jack actually liked personally, as it made it harder for someone to pull off what the bugs had in the third war, cutting off the majority of colonies from needed industrial complexes producing weapons and war material. But professionally Jack knew what this would do. The semi independent armies, the means of arming and supplying them locally, increased war rhetoric, a nebulous enemy. It made everyone nervous. Jack wasn’t the only one who saw it, history after all was a required class for citizenship. It was blindingly obvious that Edinburgh was some kind of authoritarian, trying to build up a power base and incite local rebellion to further clamp down on civil liberties. But it was TOO obvious, he had to know it was obvious, he was no moron. That was the most scary and disconcerting part of this. 

Straker was more than willing to build up the Federation’s defenses, more than willing to go along with this at least somewhat to further his own political agenda. It was also quite clear he was not going to throw in with Edinburgh outright. Both obviously considered each other allies of convenience, nothing more. Or at least that was the appearance they put off. It was hard to tell, and it continued to disturb Jack. Even his best psychologists continued to be divided on the matter. Sometimes in public they had obviously opposite goals, ideals, and agendas. In private they would often quarrel, argue, and other times, be civil, polite, and unusually tranquil. No one knew what to expect, it made both their actions hard to predict, hard to predict made a lot of people really, really nervous. 

However, thankfully, it appeared Straker was trying to play the long game, knowing that Edinburgh will likely be voted out of office soon, all the more likely after his borderwar backfired on him. His ratings were plummeting through the floor into the basement. Too many kids returning home in body bags, if at all, for people’s liking. Straker, while not an opponent of the war, was most certainly not a proponent. Indeed he had expressed in several Sky Marshall meetings that they were on an unavoidable collision course for war with the Batarians, in competition for resource rich worlds in the Traverse. He had publicly argued against a hasty declaration and in private had expressed concern over the series of blows that lead up to the war, proclaiming it, “A perfect storm.”

It was all a terrible clusterfuck in the border regions as well. While they got those border worlds, most of the population either wanted to go back to Batarian space, or were in the midst of trying to start a rebellion. On the human side of the line, many of the colonies were in the midst of arming panic. People were streaming out only to be replaced by anti Batarian and anti slavery fanatics, setting up “shop”. Those too stubborn to leave, too poor to afford offworld transport, or set up with the typical 20 year colonist contract, were stuck in the middle and desperately looking for ways to defend themselves.

Thankfully most were either Citizens or service members in the case of the bulk of the colonists, and were therefore legally obligated to be trained and proficient in small arms use at the very least. But the colonies had not reached a size suitable for true Colonial Guards, and instead were garrisoned by a full army group of Mobile Infantry. Often those who were ending their service contract within a year or two. Many in fact were looking for prospective plots of land already. 

Turns out Bunker-chic was the new rage on the borders.

Jack sighed, “Irrelevent of what we do, the course is set. War is inevitable once more.” Jack swirled the conents of whiskey in his bottle, ashamed that war was once again on the horizon. That once again young men and women, would be dying in another avoidable conflict, “Ben, I’m pulling you off the Black Cross to look more into the Batarians, if they're planning another attack like Mindoir I want to know ahead of time and I want the Federation ready to spring a trap upon them.”

“What about the Cross boss?” Ben asked, standing behind both his friends, looking into the fire.

“The Cross is no longer a threat to the Federation. You've established enough of a network that I feel you can let one of your lead’s take the reins.” Jack explained, sipping his own whiskey bottle, “Eva anything on those sightings?”

“After that raid five years back, I was sure we would have tracked them down.” She downed another shot of her drink, “But those demons are elusive.” She perked up and looked to her cohorts, “But I can finally say something definitive on them, after our last acquired … ‘specimen’. Those Cyber Zombies we met on that moon all those years ago? They aren’t the Cyber Demons. Not even close. For one the demons we hunt, they’re a hell of a lot smarter.” 

The specimen she referred to was Quarian body, or what was left of one after it had its limbs replaced by crude prosthetics running to a second machine nervous system, it was basically a robot wearing a rotting corpse. “Alright, get back to the land mine hypothesis regarding the Zombies. If we can uncover more of them maybe we can find out who or what made them and why.” 

Eva’s eyes turned sour, so did her voice, “Come on Jack, isn’t there anything else I could do?”

Jack relaxed back into the luxurious armchair, “Well….. there is one thing, you hear about the BAaT program?”

Eva relaxed into her chair as well, scoffing, “That dumpster fire? Do you need me to cover up the Turian trainer’s death?” 

Jack shook his head, “No. For the most part, I need you to head down there and help get a girl out of trouble for me.”

“What, you find a young sweetheart?” Eva joked, as Jack refilled her shot glass. 

“Remember that Ascension Project?”

Eva paused for a moment and thought, “Yes. Kind of hard to forget their executions after they made those ethics violations. I‘m starting to think the sight of a human being depressurized is getting old.” 

Ben spoke up, “Ha you can say that again.” He produced a file from his satchel bag and handed it to Eva. 

Jack entered his serious mode despite his upcoming drunkenness, “We moved them to BAaT immediately after the incident. All the survivors. The Federation’s BAaT program however had too little scrutiny. That dead trainer you were referring to earlier was been killed by Subject 001 and another student. Other than the obvious diplomatic embarrassment of that Turian trainer getting turned to a bag of chunky salsa, we can’t have ANYONE doing digging on Subject 001 or any of the other students and subjects. If the council get wind of Ascension we may be in deep shit.”

Ben spoke up, “I was going to allocate it to a minor and new agent Eva. But if you're so interested.” He teased, wiggling the folder at her as she took it. 

Eva asked the pertinent question, “Do I need to put anyone on an extended vacation?”

Jack produced a cigarette and lit it up, inhaling deeply before speaking, “No,” smoke curled around his nostrils and mouth, “Subject 001 and another student already took care of the only major red flag. I just need someone down there to get the murder charges to vanish, and the trial to go smoothly and without hiccups. This is BAaT’s deathbell, it’s been a long time coming, and it's going to be moved onto Earth itself and not on Pluto. I need you to make sure everything goes without another disaster.”

Eva was intently reading the file, “Subject 001’s name is “Jack”?” Eva asked with an arched eyebrow.

Ben sniggered as he tried to drink his own drink, “For real?”

Sighing, Jack explained, “Full name Jacqueline 001. The staff we spaced thought it would honor me somehow to have the ‘weapon’ be named after me. My sole interest however is for the wellbeing of those children and that we can prove we can integrate them successfully into society. If we can confirm that we can start with Ascension II on a much larger scale. I don’t need to explain the importance of Ascension II.”

Ben chuckled, “You didn't use your DNA in that project right? She’s not your illigiment female clone right?” Ben poked, sipping more of his drink.

Jack sighed, mortified, “Of course not! But thanks for making wonder if the fucking mad scientist I spaced did!” 

~[==|==]~

Terran Federation, Skyllian Verge, Elysium, Elysium Fields 2677GS/2349AD October 19

General Septimus Oraka marveled at the beautiful skyline before him, as he relaxed on the balcony of the hotel room he’d been staying in for the last week. He’d been sent to Elysium for the tenth annual Citadel-Federation wargames. 

It had been started semi officially before the third bug war by Sky Marshal Enolo Phid, and continued since that time after the third bug war and the official joining of the Federation to the Citadel Council ever since. 

It had started small as a friendly staff meeting between commanders in the Petolemaic War, and had after then evolved to full on large scale military games. Its benefits were obvious for the Federation, gain non violent experience fighting Council doctrine based forces. An admittedly out of context type of war for them as they had been occupied fighting full scale wars throughout space against decidedly unconventional enemy forces. One needn’t look further than their standard small arm, the Morita, to see the definitive doctrinal differences. 

Most Federal branches have still held off modernizing to Citadel standard gear, considering it to underpowered for their needs. And after seeing the remains of more than a few target dummies side by side. He could almost certainly say that anyone who had enough firepower in their hands to pierce armored plating an inch thick reliably, is not going to get the most out of eezo equipment. 

And while the Federation’s goals in the games were obvious, so too were the Turians. After the disastrous First Contact, and their participation in the Petolemaic war seeing any assets sent in being chewed out in return, they realized taking some notes on equipment design from the unarguably primitive Terran Designs to be a good idea. And still to this day the Terrans continued to impress with innovative off the cuffs tactical and strategic planning, individual bravery, and intelligent use of making due with less. 

At first the Salarians and Asari had been neglectful in their obligations to joining the games, but recently they’ve been pouring more and more resources into the games. The Asari undoubtedly were pitting better and better commando teams against the Federation after humiliation after humiliation in the games. It's almost as if the Terrans had a third eye for that, rooting out ambushes effortlessly, annihilating Asari commando safehouses with impunity, and just steamrolling the Asari even in favorable situations. There’s been high hopes for the current team though, in the initial squad v squad rounds they’ve actually managed to pull out a stalemate. Surprising the Terran platoon by standing and fighting in heavy armor and automated defenses, boxing the platoon in with more lightly armored sisters forcing the Terrans to retreat.

The Salarians have more heavily contributed recently as well, deploying a full STG combat corp. But everyone knew their real goal, getting a foot in the door in the Terran Intelligence community. Tight Terran borders, and an often times fanatical level of information compartmentalization and travel restrictions made it damn tough to learn anything about them through conventional means. This has only worsened after the Third bug war. The scars of which were still both metaphorically and physically visible.

But he cleared his mind as he watched the rising sun crest over the cityscape of Elysium, he had been charged with going over the reports this year to see if they had gotten any better at fighting the Terrans. And thankfully they had. 

The first few years had been a turkey shoot as they called it. While the Hierarchy had most certainly fared much better than the Asari and Salarian counterparts in open warfare, it didn’t help that many scenarios the Terrans tested for involved the lack of the Turian navy, and therefore, lack of any form of artillery support. To say it was surprising when the Terrans, without fleet assets themselves, proceeded to outfight similar sized turian formations in anything resembling a fair (and therefore unrealistic) fight, was shocking. And the math rarely lined up in the Turian’s favor. While the Terrans could scarcely afford to lose men in droves like the Krogan or Rachni, they made up with lack of numbers with relative quality, firepower, and information superiority. 

Oraka, who had participated in many of these early games had echoed his peers. They needed more firepower in units, they needed more specialized Legions for contested orbital, or spirits forbid no orbital support, and they needed to better leverage economic superiority on the micro level. As it stood, taking two for one casualties against the Terrans, who were more than willing to deploy upwards of a million men to a single planet that held only a few tens of thousand was not a happy thought. And the Terrans could and would do it too. Their experience in frankly nightmarish logistical situations, and their strategic mobility meant even the risk of a small task group getting past your lines was going to be an ever increasing pain in the ass until they were either destroyed, or caused so much havoc that your battle line buckles and breaks. They were like Salarians if their ground troops were a threat in open battle!

It was their ability to mass and then deploy overwhelming forces to individuals battles meant that unless you held great numbers in reserve your line would be pierced, shattered, and then rolled up. And the reverse was true too, they were just as willing to making multiple pronged assaults and push the entire thin red line back while they could, biting, holding, and then beating off the counter attack while launching their own in the worst place possible. 

They still dominated many small scale and short term strategic wargames. But about four years ago, the Hierarchy finally got a workable tank design down to pat that could equal Terran designs as well as deploy Havoc Legions more liberally to help counter the Terran’s own jet packed infantry, they won the tactical games 4 years straight. Often the Turian tactic for Federation defenses were to draw away and then pin down their mobile forces in heavy fighting, suppress their static and mobile AA assets with overwhelming artillery fire, and then use fast moving super sonic assault craft to attack their HQ and claim their flag, winning the game before the Terrans could free their limbs from equally vital objectives. 

It wasn’t going to work forever, but it certainly worked for now. Last year had been pretty bad for the Citadel too in many fields where the Terrans were slowly but surely catching up technologically, but they had managed to win a few fights more than average. This year was remarkable in that most of the forces they contributed didn't come locally as expected from Skyllian Verge, but they instead used forces from all over the Federation and therefore had little to no time to acclimatize to one another in the upcoming field games. 

This year’s special war game was that a bulk of the Federation command staff had been lost to Salarian agents. The Asari commandos were currently slated to eliminate a few select Terran units in the confusion. 

The main concern in the upcoming games was that once the Terrans were backed into a corner they would do what they had done every time they were forced into such a situation, go out with a bang. Often literally, nuclear suicide was preferred over surrender in many cases. 

Turian command staff had in the first war games filed a complaint, the Terran’s responded by simply saying war is unfair and their soldiers would still win by dint of last man standing because of their armor. It was actually a damn good point. Citadel forces rarely used full body hardsuits on breathable atmospheres due to soldier comfort. The human’s only example of powersuit unsealed armor was now discontinued and declared a deathtrap by both popular and professional decree. 

And while it was against Citadel Conventions of warfare to use nuclear weapons and other WMDs on garden worlds, the often sub kiloton fusion shells they fired were nightmares if given a juicy enough target, like a chokepoint filled with enemy forces attacking your base. 

Sighing, Septimus looked over another report siting how a Terran Foreign Legion primarily made up of Quarian outcasts had taken control of a Citadel tank column through the use of drones. A bit concerning as this had NOT been a documented security hole.

Well, things could be worse, he could have lost money. The wargames always brought out the gambler in a Terrans, and if you were shrewd you could make some money. He doubled the 100 credits he put in betting on the Terrans in the last marksmanship games. Terran’s treated the wargames as a public show, he’d even caught things he would consider military secrets on Fednet. It seemed some troopers would live stream the fight to Fednet for money and then Fednet would use the footage. Strange practices but he guessed it went back a bit. He’d seen the news reports from the first Bug War, on the pluto campaign. They tended to not sugar coat the war. 

Checking his watch, he could already see outside the huge numbers of troop ships landing in the spaceports that circled the massive five hundred mile radius mesa the city was made upon. He’d need to hurry to make it to the Federation day military parade that was going to happen soon. He always wanted to see it, and he’d been told by every Terran he met that this next upcoming one was going to be glorious, divisions straight from earth were going to be doing intricate marches and demonstrations of Terran power. He’d also appreciate seeing the upcoming contestants in the games as these divisions were slated to be the opponents for this year’s primary large scale games. He was stuck here for a full month or so, so he planned to enjoy this like a vacation, which meant he’d have to go to the parade even if he weren't professionally and personally interested. Standing up he could just about feel that tingling of electricity zipping from person to person in the crowds below. As he left his hotel and into the street, people crowded in the sidewalks and thoroughfares. It was a national holiday and therefore just about everyone was mandated to take the day off. 

Smelling the clean and crisp mountain air, he was just about to set off when he saw his adjutant running in the midst of the crowd trying to get to him. Waiting patiently as he arrived, he huffed and puffed before straightening and saluting, “Sir! I have a report for you, your eyes only! Straight from Terran High Command.”

Taking the letter and scanning it, his mandibles slowly flared out in shock and surprise. 

“Sir?”

Regaining his sense, he carefully folded up the paper, and then stuck it in his mouth eating it, “Enjoy the festivities legionnaire. I need to get a driver for Central Spire.” Looking to the center of the massive mesa, he saw the monolithically high, concrete spire jutting to the air, surrounded in lights and view screens for various Fednet announcements. Quietly in his mind as he found an auto taxi he couldn’t help but keep thinking in his mind, ‘They can't be that insane could they? It’s… madness! While we're all here? They’d be foolish… Please be Terran paranoia...’

To be continued.


	16. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

Et incipit

Fire and smoke burned all around him. 

It swirled in the air like tornadoes of heat and choking black dust. The room… was not enclosed, it was tall, open as if above a great vault of the heavens was open. Where glittering ribbons of light intercepted streaking thunderbolts of sound.

Bodies lay piled, caught in a struggle, an orgy of violence that transcended civilized behavior, stripped of all niceties and expectations society placed upon creatures.

Instead, the two sides, slave, free, invader, protector, were paused as if in mid motion, hands gripped across each other’s threats, knives drawn and gutting, firearms and accelerators fired point blank blowing out huge gouges in flesh.

A charnel house it would appear. 

And in the center stood a golden idol, her hair flowed in mid stasis, like glittering threads of gold. Ribbons of light cascaded from her gold plated armor, in one hand she had a sword, made as ornament, but easily capable of blunt force trauma, in the other, an oversized kite shield, that reached up to her mid chest. 

Sword was sheathed behind the shield, of which was dented horrifically by accelerators, at least a few inches deep, a few had even penetrated, but the shield itself, it was covered in black and red gore, splattered up its length from brutal combat.

Her armor was given a similar treatment, underneath one could see bones and muscle fester and burn a glowing red light of molten iron, she looked over the carnage, her face a grim mask of sadness and determination. 

Then, the statue, for that was what it was, turned, emitting a creaking, groaning moan, like that of a deathrattle. Her eyes, golden, with red iris transfixed his own gaze, and her mouth opened, 

“Et incipit, erant autem Iohannes venit …” 

Terran Federation, Skyllian Verge Sector, Blue’s Due, in Orbit over Elysium, 2677GS/2349AD October 19

The buzzing ring of an alarm woke Second Lieutenant John Shepard. Looking over to the night stand, the electronic timepiece had a harsh white glow, “05:05”. He’d already used up his 5 minute snooze. Growling, and wiping the sleep from his eyes, John arose. Being commander of a marines detachment wasn’t a job you could just sleep away. The lights slowly started to elevate as his room sensed he was now awake, slowly acclimatizing his eyes. Yawning loudly he pushed himself off his bed and set about the routine he’d developed aboard the Blue’s Due. 

As he brushed his teeth he looked through his mirror’s electronic calendar and scheduling. ‘Please dear god not another all hands alert drill. Fucks sake my boys and our MI popsicles are going to start strangling each other if we wake the greenies again.’ instead some good news hit, “Whuh…” Spitting he smiled ever so slightly, “Federation day. Thank you god for small mercies.” He muttered, that meant he and his boys would get double alcohol rations and generally the day off for the entire crew. Except the Marines hence the double alcohol. Working on a national holiday sucks ass.

The entire ship’s routine went through his head. No doubt everyone was getting ready for one party or another to celebrate the 217th birthday of the Federation. Typically on a ship this meant light duty, as that would mean most people congregated in the mess and rec halls for movies, games, drinking, and general merrymaking, the ship AI would handle most actions and a volunteer engineer team keeping the ship running for the day of lax maintenance, in exchange for whatever favors or promises were called in, taken out, or organized. 

So a day of light duty, patrolling the scant halls of the the small ship, meals, fight breaking, and controlling the betting pools. Sounds like a well earned day off to him. The constant war readiness drills were killing him and everyone aboard the ship. Please it’s not like the Bugs or something were going to attack the Skyllian Fringe or anything!

By the end of his morning routine he was wearing his duty uniform and headed to breakfast in the officers mess. Normally he’d be the second person there, behind petty officer Howser, the ship chef. But today he was the third, standing in the middle of the small officer mess was the old man, Commander Sokodiavan. Hardly older than John actually at 27. 

Entering the room he stood firm and saluted, “Good morning SIR!” He announced. Maintain professionalism, Sokodiavan ran a laxer ship, but as the Marine commander it was John’s duty to set a good example at all times, even if no one was there to witness it. 

“Lieutenant Shepard. Good morning to you too, grab some coffee and grub and sit down, got some news for ya to spread around.” Shepard nodded and with his captain got his breakfast. Howser nodded to them both as he gave them each a plastic bowl, metal utensils, small carton of milk, and a bag of muesli and chocolate protein vitamin mix.

“Right gentlemen, come back in five minutes for the pancakes, what do you want on each of yours?” Howser explained as the two picked up a hydro pack and flavouring. 

“Plain.” Sokodiavan asked.

“Fruity if possible, chocolate otherwise.” John asked with a smile. 

“Right then, I’ll bring them to you when done.” Howser replied with a smile and the two sauntered off to the nearest table in amiable silence.

“Right sir, you said you had some news for us?” Shepard inquired politely, flipping over his bowl, rightside up, and ripping open the muesli pack. 

Sokodiavan was also doing the same, and nodding, “Yeah, just got some good news.” He mentioned, quietly, with little enthusiasm. Didn’t sound like good news. “Requests to wrap up our patrol has gone through, we’ve been redirected to Elysium, we’re set to arrive within an hour actually.”

That’s convenient, “That sounds great sir! I know our popsicles downstairs would appreciate some damn shore leave.” John returned with some real enthusiasm, trying to keep the mood light, even while the captain seemed more dour than ever.

Sokodiavan grunted, as they both opened their milk cartons and poured the contents to mix with their cereals. John began to eagerly mix in his milk, muesli and protein mix. Sokodiavan just looked down at the milk soaking in, “I’m sure they would Shepard. Anyways, because of that, we’re deploying them on Elysium along with your marines for shore leave. Us fleet however are to remain on station for the holiday and provide policing in system.” 

John paused in his vigorous mixing to look up in confusion, “You mean just the MI right?”

He shook his head, “You AND the MI are going planetside for some deserved R&R Shepard.”

‘Huh? That doesn’t sound right,’ “That’s ridiculous sir. How are you going to police ships without a marine boarding team? Do you need me to handpick some boys for-”

Sokodiavan hissed bitterly, quietly, “I know that Shepard!” Clinching his eye and then locking with Shepards, “Orders straight from the top, it’s Federation day and SICON needs a recruitment boost, everyone to be in full combat uniform while on shore leave, with the rules relating to it in full effect.”

John put down his unopened utensil pack, and looked back intently, “Full combat uniform sir? Full combat load or just parade equipment?” He asked meaningfully.

“Three day patrol gear and rations. Don’t expect to go to the jungles there but… Expect rowdy crowds and drunk MI grunts who should really know better…. John, I’ve heard a lot of rumors milling about. Can’t repeat anything you understand, but… Something’s going on, I want you and your men keeping good order down there, Elysium’s a big deal, lot of politics rest on human control in the region being seen as strong, and the Federation Day parade is going to be a huge target for any Batarian terror groups out there. You’ve seen the news, lot of attack threats have been coming out of the Terminus lately. Something’s going to go down, I can feel it in my bones.” Sokodiavan sighed heavily, and then picked up his own unopened utensils, “So how’s your father? Last I heard he got rushed to the emergency room?”

John was a bit shaken but he focused, “Don’t know, haven't checked my inbox yet.”

“Well, here’s hoping.” They ate in silence for a few minutes, “Shepard, I know this is silly to ask but, did your father tell you any of his war stories? If I remember right you mentioned he fought at Cassandra during the Skinnie war.”

Shepard swallowed his spoonful Muesli and nodded, “He was. He did. We were just kids at the time. Geeze. Makes me feel old now. He was in the flanking force of the battle, came in from the sides, took heavy casualties in the counter strike.”

“Yeah, saw the battle in academy, the engagement was a rushed clusterfuck, Riverfield and his staff had to plan that thing out in a few weeks with no guarantee that any of their planned assets would be there. Some real old school type planning. Can’t imagine being in the first line just holding out and hoping that your reinforcements get in anywhere near the allotted time…”

“Well whatever happens, I’m sure we’ll be fine sir. ‘Just policing’ as it were.” John comforted. Howser came up with two plates of pancakes stacked two high each. 

“Plain and chocolate for our esteemed captain and security chief. Got some vaguely watered down fluid called ‘syrup’ for you boys as well.” Setting them down he rose up to his full imposing height of a senior sailor, and folded his arms, “Captain, I have faith in you. Not a word will come out my mouth I tell ya. Been hearing similar rumors and I can guarantee, that whatever is causing a stir we can face it. Anyways, coffee maker is just about done too. When I come back I want those plates empty, bellies full, and smiles on your faces.” Chuckling he went off to retrieve their typical morning coffee. 

A few minutes later the room became active as other officers of the ship came to claim their breakfast too, but Sokodiavan and John ate in mutual, supportive silence. 

~[-]~

Securing the last of the armor plating for his power armor, Shepherd saw he could now access the local fednet broadcast buoys on his HUD. Wondering what the local chatter was, he tapped in. Mundane things it appeared, the most noteworthy story being an update on an old story, “Northern miners strike”. They’d been trying for months to get a bill to move their planets from tertiary status to colony status again. It’s been an ongoing battle between Northerners and the Federal Government since the third bug war when they tried to split from the Federation. Didn’t end well for them as to be expected, though some still said if Sky Marshal Tromblay hadn’t taken the entire northern Fleet to go on some suicide mission they may not have felt abandoned. 

John thought they were full of shit, Tromblay had indisputably shored up the Northern front with his actions, they should be grateful about not having to worry about Fourth raids or Coven infiltration attempts.

Closing his closet he also found something that was just sent in, a speech in progress from Governor Prime Williams. He was talking about what the Federation stood for, how far they had come from the dubious origins as a gang of veterans fighting in the streets of Aberdeen, yadda yadda, protect those they held dear from corrupted democracies, blah blah, from gang to great interstellar Republic, ect ect, a federation of united citizens, holding back the darkness and monsters of their little corner of the galaxy, now part of a greater galactic whole with new allies and friends. 

Yeah, fuck you Williams, Spacer League for life!

Although to take it from an objective view, Williams was a talented orator, while this speech wasn't as strong as some of the stuff he had given during the siege of Terra. Perhaps he got a new speech writer, as he caught something peculiar. Williams kept using that phrase “a united citizen federation” or some variation. 

Pretty unusual to start floating that term. Terran Federation was not the original name of the government, it used to be just THE Federation for 20 some years before things settled, so it was not hard to imagine that a name change was being felt out again. After all humans weren’t the only ones in the Federation nowadays. The Petolemaics had had been serving in the military and getting citizenship for going 30-40 years or so by now, the Quarians popping up by the thousands for 20 so years, heck that one had resulted in some parts of the Migrant fleet outright splintering to settle in Federation territory when they were offered a planetary system to do with as they pleased. And the Foreign Legion had brought many aliens from all over the Citadel and beyond. Taking that into account, it was not hard to see why floating a change may be order. Though that would probably cause the Citadel Council to be more annoyed with the Federation then normal. Changing the name to UCF was basically a promise to supplant them someday. 

John blinked off the screen and headed out of his room into the hall to help herd their MI popsicles into the loading bays and oversee their thawing out.

“Shepard! wait up.” Sergeant Major McIntire called out, jogging up the corridor. McIntire was a giant of a man, nearly seven and a half feet tall, his frame easily a time and a half larger than a normal man’s, he basically dwarfed Shepard or just about anyone else he had met in his life. 

“McIntire what’s up?“ Shepard replied.

“Just came to tell you that unit number 10 has come loose again. It’s good we moved its occupant out, I’m not dealing with that shit again. I’m ain’t paid enough to deal with a fleet tech’s job.”

“Well if you didn't want to be a marine and deal with everyone’s shit then you could always get your alternative deployment option.” John teased as the two walked down the hall towards the shuttle bay.

“Guard duty at the Libertatem embassy? Fuck that noise sir, at least here I get to have the chance of shooting something.” McIntire cursed. John, since meeting the irishmen years ago at boot, had never known him to voluntarily go to a quiet posting. Hell never been one for a “merely” active one either, he’d been sent back to boot for training into the Marines after physically killing a warrior bug, with his bare hands, in Light Armor. Or at least that was how the story went. A dubious one as the Third Bug War had been over for years by that point, “So EllTee, what we have planned today? Customs inspection? Fight stopping? Racketeering?” He joked.

“Well it’s our lucky day McIntire, you know that memo I sent out first thing after breakfast?”

“Aye, full combat load, 3 day pack, guns checked out of the armoury, all personal effects stowed away and accounted for…” McIntire stopped and gripped John’s arm, not painfully, a feat that John had learned McIntire could perform through Power armor, but it was strong enough to stop John and nearly pull him back, “If I didn’t know better, I’d say someone's planning on giving us a fight down there.” John could just about hear the grin spread across his features.

John gave his best winning smile, even though he knew McIntire couldn’t see it through his helmet, “On Federation Day? And on one the most heavily defended, populated, and important colony of the Federal Frontier? Please my friend, you’d have to be braindead to think anyone’s dumb enough to try it.”

McIntire had the tone in his voice that he was frowning, “Could you try not to jinx us sir? Yes it would be nice for things to spin out of control. But I draw lines at terror bombings. Herding civvies is not that I call fun, now a full on invasion on the other hand sir, I’d dig that. Let them be brain dead and try something. But I don’t like working under hearsay and assumptions. And I’m getting a lot of assumptions and a lot of hearsay.”

John stopped, straightened, and met his second’s visor, “I was told by the Old Man, who was told by high command, to go in full gear and kit for morale purposes, and to be on the lookout for suspicious individuals and possible terrorists.” John smirked, and it reached his voice, “Truth be told? I doubt anything big will happen, you really think the Batarians would try shit again? They got their ass kicked back during the border war of 43.”

John resumed walking, McIntire was not finished though, “The Mindoir Incident did not leave their asses kicked, no matter how much FedNet likes to trumpet our, ‘first victory’, after the Third Bug War sir. I don’t buy it, I was there, we didn't exactly get covered in glory, we traded blows in a border skirmish, took a ass whipping, a whipping we rightly deserved for rushing headlong into them like that, and we ‘claimed’ a dozen colonies filled with nothing but dirt tilling peasants. We accomplished none of our objectives, their fleet assets were not greatly damaged, we took heavy losses, we didn’t even end the raiding conclusively, and worse part is the Alliance got its shit kicked in significantly more than we did, humiliating us. All it did was push the border back and cause a larger shit storm…. Sir.”. 

John sighed, behind his helmet, inaudible but still there, “At least the shitstorm died down Mac, and the bonus was the Batarians shot themselves in the gut, can’t believe they went full iso’ just like that.”

“I STILL don’t like it.”

“Yeah, well, we’re in agreement there McIntire.” John agreed solemnly.

~[-]~

The ride down to the surface was uneventful for the most part, beyond the usual bumps and thrashing the barely aerodynamic corvette performed as it made a controlled descent to a gravity tether that would reel them in more safely. 

Such technology was a literal pipedream to the first users of the Cherenkov drive and space exploration in general, over a hundred years ago, you either made the thing aerodynamic or you planned on it not going back into space ever again. The trio of closely enclosed boxes that made up the corvette’s body and twin engines indicative of the new design philosophy in federal shipyards, was hardly what one could call “Sleek”, “Elegant”, or “Aerodynamic”. 

But as John felt the reassuring minor whiplash of the ship correcting course under the gravity tether, he decided it hardly matters. Elysium was in the midst of constructing its first orbital elevator at a specially prepared site on the equator, until then however, any ships like the Blue’s Due, would have to do it the hard way back and forth. 

And so they gently started to drift down to the city below as more gravity tethers locked onto them and began to drag them down, gentle murmurs from the crew in their crash seat positions broke out as the only dangerous part of the landing was completed. A few minutes later the ship halted, and then a resounding splash and a feeling of seasickness took over as they landed in a standard designed water tank, made to hold ships of this size without the use of expensive Citadel eezo technology. 

Finally, physical tethers were attached to the ship as it settled with an overwhelming clang indicating a gangplank had been attached. 

The uneasy feeling within the pit in his stomach was gone now, John undid his seat and so did the rest of the marine complement of ten, who proceeded to patrol down the hall ensuring that the rest of the crew were fine as they grabbed personal effects, shoreleave bags, and made for the exits. 

John made to the airlock first and looked over the mob of at least fifty other crew on the small corvette, “Right everyone, you know the rules for this bout of shore leave: no drinking, no brothels, no indecent public behaviour, and in uniform at all times. I know I know, it’s Federation day. But-” John heard the sounds of the gangplank screwing and interfacing with the decontamination chamber, ringing everyone’s ears, “- have fun! That’s an order from the Old Man himself.” A cheer emitted from the crew as they started to disgorge into the tube like gangplank and off the ship they’d been on for nearly three full months.

As the last of the crew disembarked, the ten marines all gathered up and left as well, with kit bags on their backs. John, as soon as he got down the gangplank, immediately lifted the clasp on his helmet and broke the seal with a yowling yell that was on repeated by the rest of the Marines.

“OI! Fookin’ finally!”

“Air! AIIIIR!”

“God smell that fresh scent!”

John beamed widely with his men as they hooked their helmets to their hips and began to march out into the extremely busy space port. And for the first time… We'll, ever, John saw a new alien world, he’d only ever lived and trained on Sanctuary and its solar system. Now he was living, breathing, SEEING a brand new alien world in person. And it was crowded, the space port literally packed with people, personnel, and cargo. He’d guess that this section of the space port had to be at least a mile squared flattened with concrete and large water bays for landing ships, and looking back to the Blue’s Due, he saw the metal covers they used to make it entirely flat when not in use. It was frankly amazing, and his keen eyes saw that even now another corvette of the same make as the Blue’s Due was being pulled down by the invisible hands of the gravity tethers. 

“Man its busy here! Don’t think I’ve ever seen it this busy in a spaceport.” McIntire commented from John's side, especially shoulder to shoulder as they tried to make their way through the crowd of people, almost all of them Federal Military. 

“It’s always this busy at Sanctuary.” Jon commented nonchalant.

“Really? Must have missed it then when I was there.”

“Yeah, ‘cause you landed in ass end of nowhere not the main port, ‘cause you pissed off your crew chief. Alright men! Let’s get through processing and hit the town!” Cheers met him as the marines moved as an arrow through the heart of the crowds. 

Heading towards the concourse building, that was only marked over the crowds by a needle like spire that must have reached a kilometer into the air which had to be air traffic control. After a quarter hour of walking, John entered the glass facade building that was just teeming with people from what he could see, and couldn’t wait to escape the overwhelming and unfamiliar humidity of Elysium. He was rewarded by feeling the cool refreshing breeze of air condition on his face as they entered. And if anything the glass facade was an ill representation of just how packed it was in here as well. It was just as packed in here as it was out there. 

He saw the que for the bio scanners and security was almost insultingly significant as people walked through and were waved on by the almost overwhelmed terminal security. Despite what most citadel species would blanch at an overly long and unnecessary security line, for the Terrans this was only barely longer than normal, as Terran Security, by necessity, had to be both thorough and fast. 

Upon finishing the last of security, with only McIntire getting caught up due to a suspicious cavity in his body that turned out to be a misreading, due to him keeping non standard gear on his power armor. But other than that they rode the escalator to the main lobby of the concourse. While it wasn’t AS busy as the teeming security below, there was actual room to move here, it was still almost discombobulating to see so many in such a confined area. 

“This must be what it’s like at the Beijing bazaar back on Earth!” One of his men, Karida, commented. And looking on he wasn't entirely wrong, shops and restaurants lined the walls selling everything from useless knick knacks, to quality food. Banners of the Terran Federation hung from every storefront and from the glass domed ceiling itself, forming a shaded wavering pattern on the heads of people and the floor itself.

Shepard looked about this foreign terminal for the first time until something gold caught his eye. In the center of the entire concourse. A giant statue for at least ten feet of pure shining bronze metal. In one hand she held a polished bronze sword that looked to be at least as long as he was tall, she held it out in a sweeping pose, in her other hand she held upright before her legs an oversized kiteshield that reached up to her golden armored skirt.

Her face had a matronly tone, with a motherly smile and a look of elation, her hair, was, well it wasn't metal ribbons or strips, it was holographic projections for strands of golden light weaving and intertwining as if the wind was blowing to her face. 

“Shepard!” Shaking his head, John looked to McIntire who held a firm grip on his shoulder, “Sir you alright? You kinda got a lovey dovey look on your eyes for that statue.” He commented with a chuckle.

“Yeah boss, I like my girls big and strong, but even my turkish charms are nothing against a chastity belt of literal iron.” Ceylan jested with a edged elbow as he hit John in the side, “Come on boss we should probably report to our barracks ya know? Gotta get all the partying in we can before the big parade.”

Taking one last look at the bronze statue in the middle of the concourse, Shepard shook his head one last time and grunted, “Yeah. I’m really wishing I could get a drink now though.”

~[-]~

John looked over his nine assorted marines to make sure their power armor was in perfect condition for presentation to the base commander. After looking over Ikersie, and removing the bumper sticker that someone had slapped on his ass in the nearly shoulder to shoulder crowds of the city streets, peeling it off and holding it taut for everyone to see, “‘Smokin’’, well Ik’sie someone's interested in your ass.” The assembled marines chuckled as John carelessly threw the sticker away and nodded to them, “Right then let’s go.”

The barracks was more of an urban fort, sloped reinforced concrete, graffitied by hundreds of taggers and some artists with a bit of talent, with a moat of at least five meters wide and deep of water, separating it from the city itself with only a single causeway to enter. Which like the rest of the city was packed with people. 

It was your typical Federal fort and barracks, it was large, especially for an inner city barracks, at least a square mile of above ground facilities and who knew what below. Getting to the main blastdoor they were processed by Foreign Legion Asari and fellow Marines who verified their identities and sent them through. 

They were met by an overworked private for the local Colonial Guard who showed them their dorm and as his men began to get settled in and claiming their bunks, he was approached by the private, “Lieutenant Shepard? As an officer you must report to your immediate superior Commander Anderson, he’s waiting for you in the operations room.”

“Alright. So can you tell me anything about this Commander Anderson?” John asked naturally.

“I don’t know, look him up if you care so much, I’m not an NPC in a video game…. Sir.” The private than turned on his heel and walked away at a very brisk pace. “Geeze. What crawled up his ass?”

Seeing the private walk down the hall he also realized that he didn’t get his name. Fuck now he’d have to find some other way to get his ass in trouble. Should really start wearing those smart glasses again. 

Walking from the barracks to administration, Shepard had to elbow his way past several hallways filled to the brim with staff and other officers, John essentially had his hand plastered to the side of his head as he walked there were so many ranking officers. 

Elbowing into the situational room, a massive room with adjutants, lieutenants, and commanders of the Federal Marines. Joining a short line of other lieutenants and even a few captains, a whole veritable host of other officers descended from the central dias after twenty minutes to be replaced with the next host of junior officers and such. 

Commander Anderson was an older gentleman, his senior of at least a decade, black, tall, broad, and even under his uniform he could easily see his well defined body that almost all Federal soldiers kept. His face was speckled with pock marks and scars, with John’s discerning eye and experience on Sanctuary, its likely his helmet at one point had blown inwards with shrapnel or had been hit in the face with a sandblaster in training at dangerously close range. He held himself with a surety and professionalism that was infectious. 

Next to him was an older woman, much older, at least 50, no later than 60, she had the tell tale marks of gene therapy to extend her natural life span, a process and luxury afforded to most people these days, but judging from her age that put her right on the threshold of being viable for the treatments. Her hair was dark, lips full, and eyes deep set, tired. Scars were plenty apparent on her body, her face held a well healed and disguised gash across her upper left temple, her neck sported tell tale signs of surgery incisions, and peaking barely above her SICON military intelligence trench coat. Her aura was full of barely concealed tired apathy.

“Gentlemen, ladies, welcome to Elysium City. And happy Federation day. As you all know we should be safe here, low terror threat, not directly on the border, high walls, good space defenses. But don’t let that fool you.” He tapped the holo table and a 3d representation of the galactic map opened, “We’re the front line.”

Immediately the border marked worlds turned red, and Elysium, dead center in the region, lit up blue, “We’re the only area of note that has built up defense and the capability to withstand a siege. While many other think its fear mongering, or even ridiculous to think anyone could ever delve this deep into our territory, the evidence is clear before us. Terminus pirates have been preparing for the last year for something big.” 

Elysium came up front and center, “This world is the crown jewel of Terran power in the Skyllian Verge, rich in natural resources, a garden world, a cross roads system, easily defendable with extensive orbital infrastructure and installations across the solar systems alongside major terraformation activities. If they were to strike, we’d be the target, the ransom for it would be enormous. And what better time to strike than when we’re off guard with foreign regiments and in the midst of military games?” Anderson looked to everyone square in the eye. “What we tell you now will not leave this room.” Straightening up he turned to his partner.

“I’d like to introduce retired Intelligence Operative, Citizen Roza Beraza. A senior citizen on this world she’s helped found and defend it after the third bug war.” Looking at everyone in the eye he sighed deeply, “Please prepare yourselves for psionic briefing.”

~[-]~

Riding up an elevator, John looked across the sprawling city scape of Elysium city, packed with air cars, people like tiny specks could be seen on the streets below. The sun was now high in the sky, at noon, in a few more hours the parade would begin and Shepard with his squad would have to report for crowd control. But John wanted to see the city a bit before then, and what better way than to get in the biggest building in the city with the best view? 

“I don’t know boss.” McIntire commented from his end of the elevator as he played with his cell pad. “Somethings up. I just know it, looking at the recent news here…” He edged, concern spread throughout his voice.

“Mac. Relax.” John counseled, looking across the beautiful cityscape. 

“I- Yes sir.” McIntire relented as he approached the glass wall of the elevator speeding up the side of the tower.

Sharing a moment of silence, John sighed, “I don’t know about you, but on Sanctuary? There's nothing like this. All underground, only farmsteads and small towns on the surface. It’s so… Beautiful.” 

Suddenly a ding and the doors opening released them to the observation tower. “I don't know what you see sir. Just city. All it does is remind me of home at Dublin. Place is filthy and water logged. Although, I don’t think this city is water logged yet.” Pulling up his cell pad he added, “But looking at the rain levels it usually gets, it will undoubtedly flood when it pours.” 

Running up a flight of spiral stairs into the glass observation dome near the top of the Citadel Tower. You could see for hundreds of miles out into the cityscape of the Jewel of the Federation. Elysium City. Putting on his helmet he activated his hud, zoom, and map. And John… Stared out into the space around the tower. 

Citadel Tower, the tallest and largest building on the world, was smack dab center in the city, surrounded by towers that were dwarfed next to it. It was a pure reinforced concrete structure made of the finest materials, much of it the same stuff one used to make modern orbital elevators.

John could see past the towers and into the suburbs and farms that surrounded the main city, and all the way to the spaceport, and past that, the precipice of the massive mesa the entire city was built on. 

“I said it once, I’ll say it again Mac… It’s beautiful, you can even see the jungles beyond from here.” No response came, “Mac?” Looking back it had seemed McIntire had abandoned him to chat up a strangely dressed woman. She wore a robe, he’d say a toga, with her long golden hair tied together into a bun with a sword like hair pin. Looking back over the city scape he marveled at it and heard laughter behind him in the distance. 

A minute later she was by his side, “You know, when it gets crazy down there, it’s nice to come up here and just watch it all.” She had a thickly accented grecian voice, but it had pleasant tone, matronly, implying a maturity that exceeded her apparent age.

“I wonder what it looks like at night.” John replied, removing his helmet slowly, then setting it on the railing. 

“Well….” She teased with a smile in her voice, looking over she had a data pad in her hand, and smirking right at him, she waved, and the glass before him morphed, the room dimmed as the bright day time city was replaced with a night time skyline. Like one John had never seen ever before. 

To say his jaw dropped was an understatement. He watched on in silence for what felt like eternity as he looked across the drifting lights of the city, as the entire globe atop the tower dimmed and showed a 360 of the skyline. 

As John gawked and amazed himself looking across it, going around the entire diameter of the tower, McIntire walked up, “So here’s a thought, why is this place called Citadel Tower?” 

“That’s the english translation, the proper name in Greek is Acroelysia, or the Acropolis of Elysia. It was the site of the first settlement on the planet, a small military outpost atop a relatively large stone outcropping jutting atop the plain like plateau of what is now known as the Elysium Plateau. You now stand atop it. After the first colonial pioneer teams landed and set up the first habitation units, an enormous tropical monsoon was going to breeze through the continent, the only shelter that would survive was the old fort atop the acropolis. And so they huddled inside, tightly packed, and when the storm passed after a full month, they decided to expand the fort into a tower that could house the populace effectively until a more permanent solution could be found. The fort transformed into a skinnie steel reinforced concrete tower that devoured the stone base it once was upon, in less than a year afterwards. It was renamed Acroelysia, or Citadel of Elysia. Just in time for the next monsoon.” 

She spoke flawlessly and with a hint of passion, rarely pausing for breath. Turning from McIntire to look across the city she continued, “The city grew larger, and the planet’s strategic position in the Skyllian Verge both made it an alluring new home for many across the galaxy, and a target as well. We experienced our first slave raid barely a year into colonization, half the colonial population was taken in a single strike at the dead of night. Acroelysia was inadequate for the growing population’s needs.”

She smiled a rueful smile, and motioning to the center of the tower globe she tapped her data pad and the scale model in the center of the room began to reveal its nature as a hologram. 

McIntire folded his arms, “Listen I was just asking about the name, not a history lesson…. With respect.”

The woman smiled, “You are a soldier, are you not Sergeant Major McIntire? I’m just getting to the good parts about WHY it’s called Citadel Tower.” An infographic for the tower formed on the side, “It houses both the city quorum and planetary senate, lays claim to colonial command, and in its one hundred and two floors and subfloors it houses enough vault space for the city population, enough food to feed them for a full month without rationing, and enough arms to arm every adult over 18 and under 50, with ammunition for a full month long siege. It has direct control over the anti orbital laser and missile silos, with many of the former being part of the tower itself. Its command center also has a full grade multi spectrum kinetic barrier that can be activated to defend the entire plateau from orbital bombardment. Finally my most favorite, it’s also houses a class ten Civil AI, named Athena.” She smiles. 

“Oh no.” McIntire curses softly.

Her smile grew bigger. 

“Goddamnit.”

The shit eating grin almost overflowed.

“I flirted with my best lines. To a goddamn robot.” McIntire realized, holding his head to his hands. 

~[-]~

“So yeah, I’m just saying, after the parade, we got this bar and grill, watch the game, maybe by then the restrictions will be relaxed and we can have a few beers.” Garcia put forth, he and the rest of the squad were hoping to at least have a little fun this federation day. Not that John could blame him.

“Maybe, but first the parade,” Keeping his hud map, John sighed, “okay we’re at our sentry point. Lets go talk with our Colony Guard friends.” As McIntire kept in perfect synchronized formation, John approached the platoon of CGs who were to help with crowd control. 

The leader of the CGs waved and approached alone, he was dressed in surplus light armor, but it was painted in a merry sky blue, with a native full face helmet and fatigues that were presumably to protect from fire, adverse weather, and chemical weapons. His voice came from his helmet speaker, “Good day gentlemen. Lieutenant Aleksandrovich Petrodes, Elysium City Civil Guard.” He offered his hand to which Shepard took it firmly and shook. 

“Pleasure. Lieutenant John Shepard, 189th Marine Division, Sergeant Major Johannes McIntire, 189th Marine Division. Here to help with event security. What do you know so far?” John introduced.

“Well, its Federation Day parade, so rowdy people, drunks, and a big ass parade. I’ve heard some rumblings about security concerns regarding terrorists but I’m personally skeptical, Athena would have informed us if there were any customs concerns. And it’s not like they can land in the Zounkto, climb up the entire cliff face of our here plateau, get past the storm perimeter, infiltrate the city, annnd you get the idea.” The young man smiled, “Honestly sirs? It’s going to be a great day! Regiments straight from Terra they say! And most of the drunks aren’t dumb enough to step before a marching column of our boys and girls.” The young man just looked so sure of himself.

John couldn't help but smile in kind, “Yes. Well sounds like a day off to me and my boys. We’ll intersperse among your unit.” Saluting, the gesture was returned in kind and orders were started to be given out. The parade would start very soon.

John took the opportunity to clasp his hands behind himself and observe his new posting. It was a very wide avenue, the main road for the entire colony in fact, the proverbial spine of the city. It snaked, wound through and around buildings, here, it had a roundabout knot a quarter way in the city from the landing fields. A great obsidian colored obelisk of smart glass projected holographic information and directions, a relay node of information for the many autonomous cars that plied its roads. Currently these very same roads were deserted of vehicles save the handful of street cleaning trucks that hurriedly made last minute preparations. 

The buildings that flanked this particular stretch were mostly comm-hab arcologies. Towering constructs of steel and glass, that reached at least ten, if not sextuple that, stories high. Drones and impromptu onlookers on fancy C-tech anti grav pleasure cars had taken the best spots to watch the parade, he could see through his snoopers past the glass that many people elected to stay indoors on the upper levels and watch from a plunging view. From the many bunker like entryways into the buildings, people began to stream out as the perimeter was setup and the deadline for the start of the parade neared.

The street was like any other street in the Federation’s developed colonies. In the far past hundreds of years ago, they were made of asphalt and concrete, gravel beneath, and pipes, drains, mains, and more. With the change in earth’s weather, climate, and temperament, storms became more common, flooding occurred where it once had not, drought in others. Tropical storms ceased to be yearly, and became a monthly if not a weekly occurrence. Roads, and infrastructure once adequate, if barely in many cases, ceased to be even sustainable. Now he stood upon a road that mere centuries ago would have been inconceivable in its construction, and even in C-Space was considered overkill to the extreme. 

A construction of reinforced concrete, steel plating, safety rails. Smart glass on covered kiosks and gazebos, with data pads and terminals for people to use at their leisure. Almost reminded him of home. The road itself was more akin to a runway, wide, capable to taking nearly ten lanes alone, and plated with a seamless glass like sheen, the color of ebony. 

Sniffing he looked up, “Right then, best get to work.”

~[-]~

The first to come was not surprising. A uniform, unanimous sound of clanking feet. Thump, thump, thump thump. They spoke in an alien tongue, foreign instruments, not meant for man, heralded their path. 

Thump, thump, thump, thump. 

Left, right, left…. Left…. Left, right, left….. Left. 

John did not turn or crane his head like the packed civilians around him did. His men did not either, and the Colonial Guardsmen drinking in their example, did not move from their stoic and motionless parade rest forms either. 

Their reward was to watch the first army that would march in this parade. Steel grey, avian like figures, with sweeping full face helmets marched by in unison. 

Left, right, left…. Left…. Left, right, left….. Left. 

And in their midst, in their uniform march, the thundering sound of hundreds of soldiers marching by, a cadence was ushered. 

“To arms!”

They all shouted, and their phaeston rifles were held out, as if for inspection. 

“Under one banner!”

The squad guidons were upheld, company pennants raised high, battalion banners towered to the sky, and the legion flag, glorious sky blue, with the Turian skull atop a pile of krogan crests. 

“As a unit we stand and united we fall,”

They thundered, their high pitched squawks causing a chattering reverberation alongside their tumultuous march.

“As one! Fighting together  
Bringing the end to the slaughter  
The tides are changing,   
We as one!”

And so the song continued, and they marched. 

Left, right, left…. Left…. Left, right, left….. Left.

And so went by, the Turian 1123rd Talon Legion, 4,239 Turian males and female, in perfect unison, in perfect parade, in perfect dress. With the resolve of steel. They would not falter, indeed, John believed they’d rather die than take one step back if needs be. 

And as soon as they arrived, as soon as their deafening singing and march came, it faded away, like an echo in time. 

A minute passed and the next formation came, the more human thump thump thump of feet. 

[Song: Erika - Herms Niel]

Thump thump thump, the drums went and steel faced, “Auf der Heide blüht ein kleines Blümelein!” The chorus went, and much like the Turian formation, perfect echelon of ten by ten went by in blocks, they reached the roundabout intersection, and in perfect parade split the formation down the center and started to circle. The live event feed he had on his HUD in the corner showed a birds eye view, and he had to admit….

Damn! 

In perfect parade they began to form images with their bodies. Quickly becoming apparent was a circle with a feather in the center, 149th in elegant people-cursive. As the rest of the nearly 10,000 man combat unit marched along, the Afrika Corp’s emblem was made, then the emblem for the first DRSC, or German Republic Soviet Council, established after reunification in 1954, the device of the 1st German Far East Expedition in the Disorder Wars, and they were in the midst of forming the next emblem and the last of the division marching through when John actually turned his head.

He heard the sound of heavy vehicles, and suddenly, from an open causeway with no one before it, a few tanks came barrelling out, followed by a full regiment of armored vehicles, which proceeded to disrupt the previously neatly ordered and in sync germans to a full on panic, weaving every which way to avoid the oncoming tanks and APCs. 

[Black Betty - Caravan Palace]

Fucking Americans. Of course they'd be the progenitor of such chaos, as even now Shepard could see the long haired tank commander fuck, out of his cupola with a stupid shit eating grin, giving the finger to the German hauptmann, one could distinctly hear him say, “Fuck off Fritz! You’re backup has arrived for your sorry fucking asses!”

Rude, arrogant, and coming atop a heavily armored death machine with all his countrymen. Definitely American. If it was the French he’d be screaming atop his lungs in french and refuse to speak lingua franca inglese, even for insults. 

As the tanks careened about in surprisingly tight formation, weaving about the german battalion they’d essentially encircled in the round about. However he glanced to the side, when he saw some suspicious movement. Was that service tunnel open earlier? 

‘Wait a minute,’ he thought, and he caught a squad of Elysium Police standing guard, and saw that a full company of the Germans had somehow peeled off in the chaos, and were now intermixed with distinctly non-german looking people in the same-ish uniform, switching places in the service tunnel. 

His eyes met the Elysium Police officer and he wiped two fingers across his helmet where his mouth you would be.

Zip it

And as soon as he saw them the rest of the American vehicles drove along cutting off the sight. The beats of the music thrummed, and faded, echoing away with the last of the entire regiment. 

Silence, at least the absences of music overcame the streets, the people, the crowd, were cheering their fellow Terrans as they passed, settling to an echoing murmur of excitement that shushed when the next song could be heard in the distance. 

[Mawdini -Iraq National Anthem]

Ranks came, close knit, arms linked to one another. “My momeland, my homeland.” They started, and in their midst, their ranks so thick as they marched, one had trouble discerning the lines between the units. “The Youth will not tire, in your defense, in your defense.”

They began to spread out along the roundabout, hundreds of men marching on and forming several great concentric rings around the black obelisk. The marching came to jumping and carousing. It lasted until the entire regiment, thousands of men, formed more than ten circles around the obelisk. And then, they started to stream out, marching with arms linked in brotherhood. 

[My little Armalite]

The sound of strumming and the rattle rattle of sub-caliber ammunition fired in the distance drew John’s attention once more. Flicking his attention down the road, he saw bounding up the road, foot to foot, a cavalcade of green caped light infantry. 

And it's down along the Kyzyl, that's where I long to be,  
Lying in the dark with a Provo company,  
A comrade on my left and another on my right  
And a clip of ammunition for me little Armalite.

I was stopped by a commissar, he said, You are a swine,  
He hit me with his rifle and he kicked me in the groin,  
I begged and I pleaded, my manners were polite  
But all the time I'm thinking of me little Armalite.

The first line came bounding up, foot by foot, knee high armored greeves, dulled to an urban camo finish, that lead up to their olive green duty uniforms, and the expertly crafted ballistic plates that covered their chests like cuirasse, with a sturdy looking gut plate with a unit number. 

And it's down in Chadan that's where I long to be,  
Lying in the dark with a Provo company,  
A comrade on me left, aye another on me right  
And a clip of ammunition for my little Armalite.

Sure a brave CCP commie, came marching up our street  
Six hundred Chinese Cons’ he had lined up at his feet  
"Come out ye cowardly Fenians, come on out and fight".  
But he cried, "I'm only joking", when he heard the Armalite.

Camo cloaks of cameoline like material shifted and faded, taxed to the limit to try and imitate their surroundings, failing soundly as it whipped and thrashed about on their backs. Primitive Imitation of citadel tech that their own infiltrators used. 

McIntire pulled off his helmet and waved it about, shouting in irish. The front rank which passed him all hurrahed in reply with smiles and glee. 

Sure it's down in Abakan, that's where I long to be,  
Lying in the dark with a Provo company,  
A comrade on me left, aye another on my right  
And a clip of ammunition for me little Armalite.

Sure, the army ambushed thee, 'twas in the early hours,  
With ZTZs, and Vietnamese, and TAMie armoured cars  
They thought they had me cornered, but I gave them all a fright  
With the armour piercing bullets of me little Armalite.

The end of the formation was coming by, only a few stanzas uttered. The Irish were so few in number that John had hardly counted five platoons before the last of them passed him by.   
When they reached the roundabout, there was no fuss or worry, the formation simply went on its way, doing a full circle about, their entire force barely filling a fourth of the ring, before making on their merry way. 

And it's down in Krasnoyarsk, that's where I long to be,  
Lying in the dark with a Provo company,  
A comrade on me left, aye another on me right  
And a clip of ammunition for my little Armalite.

When Wu came to Irkutsk, to see the battles won,  
Said General Cao, We have them on the run.  
But conscrips, and commissars, on patrol at night,  
Said, remember Myanmar, and the bloody Armalite.''

They were bounding away, now, down the road, their voices fading with one last chorus.

And it's down in the Sibir, that's where I long to be,  
Lying in the dark with a Provo company,  
A comrade on me left and another on me right  
And a clip of ammunition for my little Armalite.

And they were gone, down the road, and the next refrain echoing off to the repeat of the song. 

And as their voices were spirited away by the wind and crowds, a tinny snare drum beat entered, Synchronized marching, loud, thumping. Power armor. He could see them coming, and he had to crane his neck, moving from his disciplined stoicism to actually see them before they came before him. Cold sweat reached his brow, fully powered armored soldiers were marching down in formation, rifles out, bayonets attached. Towering M13 marauders in the center of the formation, 

“We are the Federation’s Army, and our enemies are enemies of the Emperor.” They marched along, bayonets lowered, eyes raised to the horizon, “The enemy general is a hero equal to none in glory and victory.” They spoke in Japanese, of course John’s implants translated them, but the cold sweat was there. And it was a small thing, a thing only Terran would understand, “And the men who follow are also stalwart and warriors who do not fear death.” Their voices were mournful, filled with pain, “Even though they are brave enough to frighten the devil, heaven will not pardon their rebellion.” You see, the Japanese, after the Disorders, renounced violence once more, and the songs of war were reserved for only one occasion, “Those who have crossed the Emperor have never prospered.” 

War.

“Rest is not in our vocabulary. Until our enemy is destroyed, forwards, forwards, one and all.” They choroused, and the crowds of people around him were getting it now too, they understood, even if children and alien visitors could not. Panic was going to spread soon. They knew, ”Unsheathing the sword like a shattered gem, we must go forwards, prepared for death.”

The song was cut off unceremoniously, replaced by a commanding female voice, one could almost instantly recognize it, “This is Sky Marshall Erica Chaves, Military Governor of all Attican Traverse colonies. As of 1230 Elysium EST, ten minutes ago, Batarian forces struck a lightning blow at sub relay 57 and have bashed their way past the local defenses. Do not be alarmed. Stay calm for the cameras.” As if to emphasis her point, the startling snap hiss of stun batons erupted from behind. Most restrained from full on panic when confronted with that, “Even now the Batarians barrel their way here, to Elysium, to strike a blow against us. But,” She laughed, it was something she had cultivated after the first Batarian Terran War, rueful and tired, “All is in hand. All districts are to be evacuated by the numbers. All veterans are to join their militias and submit themselves to local military authorities.” 

Panic was restrained by the Elysium police, as the last of the Japanese “regiment” more like a battalion, filed away and replaced on their heels by the Foreign Legion. Their number were more significant, a Turian echelon made the spearhead of a Krogan company, and several mixed xeno’s battalions. Their numbers went on greatly, as the loudspeakers continued to make several announcements regarding evacuation orders. 

Order was maintained barely, as the people calmed, with an air of great fear and animosity, until finally the last regiment, in the defense of the city marched down, jungle green and urban gray camo came marching down with banners in hand. 

[Coat of Arms - Sabaton]

A echelon of flags was the precursor, behind them, the brave men and women of the Elysian Colonial Guard marched. First the light infantry, square upon square, hundreds upon hundreds of hastily activated militia, soldiers, and veterans with Morita 201-As and the barest essentials. 

Then behind them, something a bit heavier as seven companies of Centurion tanks, and Gecko APCs trundled by, their commanders out of their cupolas, the flag of the Federation and Elysium, the golden Terran Phoenix alongside the sky blue Elysian Acropolis. 

And finally the meat to these bones, Elysium had not skimped on planetary protection, and it’s infantry were not bottom rung CGs. Twenty companies of power suits, supported by a core cadre of four powered armor companies and even a full company of exosuits. In step, in line, and now the people felt safe. Well, safer, as the cheering returned, alongside the thunderous music. 

Only to be interrupted when the Citadel’s integrated anti orbit cannons let out an earth shaking-

KRAKOOUM!

~[-]~

“Lieutenant. A minute. Please.” McIntire called. John turned and saw McIntire looking at him, arms crossed, “The truth. Please.” He asked. Mac was a veteran himself, he understood that John couldn’t have said anything, but still. The feeling of having to misdirect his second and friend was not a good one. 

Sighing, shoulders slumping, John looked about to the rapidly draining crowd of people as they were hurriedly ushered to the nearest mass transit stations to be evacuated to the tower. “Alright. Full truth as I heard it. We knew from the beginning the Batarians were going to attack.” He met McIntire’s eyes, “Psionic briefing, I literally could say nothing until Sky Marshall Chaves announced it. All the wartime readiness drills, the concentration of ‘off duty’ forces to the planet, the parade, the war games, everything was done with a purpose.”

“They knew.” McIntire asked.

“They didn’t just know Mac, they planned on it.” 

KRAKOOUM!

“It’s a trap Mac, and they’ve just fallen into our web. We only need to hold out for a single day. One, long as fuck day.”

~[==|==]~


	17. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

Terran Federation, Skyllian Verge Sector, Elysium, Elysium City 2677GS/2349AD October 19

Sleep would be nearly impossible, even with the sound dampeners in his helmet. John could feel the reverberations as the Citadel continued to fire its cannon to the sky. If one tried to follow the shot, they would occasionally be rewarded with a shooting star, as a ship was hit, destroyed, and burned up in the atmosphere. The longer the war in heaven lasted, the better. But already stars were moving faster than possible, and the battle line had shifted drastically, deviating from a halo of stars, interwoven and connected, to a shifting line that was pushed on, the bright yellow lights of the batarian pirate vessels swooping in as the hour passed, encircling, edging, dogging.

It was a battle of attrition and heat, the former benefited the Batarians, the latter the Terrans, but now he saw it, a thousand specks of light joining together into a gravity formation, tethering one another’s gravitic leashes to one another, forming a quickly brightening cluster of stars, impossibly concentrated until they were nearly one giant blob in the sky, and then, a bright white bar swiped across the sky, forming a solid star trail across the nightly heavens.

The fleet had been forced to retreat. Lieutenant Aleksandrovich Petrodes looked over from where he stood beside Shepard, “Well that’s it, siege it is sir.”

“Status on the evacuation?” Shepard returned.

“From what I can gather, sixtyish percent. Outside in, got the farmers and personnel from the outlying farms and the landing fields on the edge of the plateau, we’re now half way done with supporting suburbs and towns.” The rumble of the cannon and its high pitched scream came again, “We’re moving the people as fast as possible, but with air travel grounded, and surface vehicles banned, well… they’re packed like sardines in the subways. Got a friend down there he’s...” 

“Hey, save the rumors.” John took a deep breath, “Right let’s look over our positions again.” Looking down the wide boulevard street, from which the parade had hours ago gone through, they took stock.

They were about a fifth of the way into the city, approximately 30 miles, they weren’t the leading edge, but they also weren’t the rearguard, and they would be certain to face heavy assault. It was fortunate then that the surrounding building’s armored storm shutters had clattered into position, each a veritable fortress, it’d take heavy artillery and continuous fire to even dent their outer armor, to level them would require deliberate destruction from the inside, or orbital bombardment. Meant to withstand the bi yearly monsoons and hurricanes now native to most of earth’s coasts, and which Elysium itself also had to withstand at least four times a year with chronic similar monsoons and flooding. 

The city now was a landscape of steel and armor plating, the streets, the buildings, the people themselves if one wished to be poetic. Looking back to the roundabout, the black obelisk still stood, cold as obsidian, his squad and the platoon of Civic Guard had done their best to settle in and get what rest they could before battle. 

It being hard to dig in was no matter, the very fortifications of the city would be used when the time came. Thumping his heel into the curb, Shepard sniffed, “So ammo is good yes?”

Petrodes shrugged his shoulders, “As good as can be expected, we got ammo lockers and bunkers scattered all around, at least ten thosuand rounds extra per man. But…"

"But?" John questioned, elongating the U. 

Alex sighed, "We likely can't be resupplied, if we're in a position that if we exhaust our reserves it will be Hades in Elysium. We'd be lucky to get a call through because everyone else would be getting plastered. Talking tidal wave of bodies level of overwhelming.”

Or translated, a bug level assault. 

Falling stars began to streak across the dusky sky. Their white trails beautiful, if not for their hidden meaning. 

“Hey boss.” McIntire pushed John’s shoulder, drawing his attention to a column of Krogan and Batarians who were marching down from the city center, wearing the uniforms of the Foreign Legion.

“Mac, Lieutenant, my flanks.” Shepard ordered and they fell in step, counter marching to meet the column’s lead. A krogan in full battle armor and standing with his arms crossed as his men walked by. 

Noticing them, he turned crisply and saluted, Shepard and his wingmen stopped and returned the salute, “Legio Lieutenant Urdnot Wrex of Silva’s Specters, First Legion 4th Battalion, 1st company.”

“Second Lieutenant John Shepard, 3rd Marine Regiment, ground detachment to the Blues Dues, and my second Sergeant Major McIntire.” Shepard introduced.

“Lieutenant Aleksandrovich Petrodes, 45th Elysium Colonial Guard.” The young lieutenant ended his salute. 

“Huh, butter bars all around then. Second lieutenant? Than I presume that makes me the senior officer.” The Krogan chuffed.

Shepard nodded, “It would appear to be sir.” 

“Right then.” Wrex cupped his helmets chin and then straightened, “I’m not going to act as if I can give your units orders, we’re three parts of the same army, but I can trust in you both to do your job right correct?”

“Yes sir, I was trained on Sanctuary and finished top of my class in tactics and combat exercises.” Shepard explained.

“Not nearly so prestigious sir, but this is my home and these are my defenses. Me and my men know our way around them. We’ll ahhh, try very hard not to hurt your men by accident, sir.” Petrodes guarded. 

Wrex paused, then tapped his helmet, removing it. Shepard hesitated before doing the same, motioning for Petrodes to do likewise. The Krogan was ancient, his face battle scarred, his crest rust red, his wide set eyes flicked over them, and he nodded, “I don’t work under the presumption I know everything,” his voice without the helmet was like two plates grinding, “but I’ve been alive for longer than both your family lines combined more than like. I know my way around the battlefield and looking at both of you, you’ve likely never seen a real battlefield.”

Both nodded that they had not been in real combat, except for McIntire who straightened, “My thoughts exactly, I won’t order you boys around by the nose, but when I do make sure you do it double quick since I’ve seen something you likely haven’t. My interest is to make sure as many of us go home to drink about it as possible.” Nodding to them both, he returned his helmet to its rightful place, “Now that we got that all squared away why don’t you show me these defenses of yours Lieutenant Petrodes.” 

~[-]~

The boulevard’s defenses were nothing to sniff at, the massive storm drains acted equally well as gunpits, and indeed were designed with such an eventuality in mind, with armored shutters and old surplus twin linked Morita Ape specials. Alongside them in the storm drain’s ammunition vault were some actually modern Harpoon single use missile launchers, and a few downright ancient Triple Grenade Launchers with a variety of civilian pacification and militarized munitions.

The Legion was better equipped, they wore citadel style hardsuits and armor, with kinetic barriers, Federation derived mass accelerators, and omnitools. They had an undeniable tech advantage, but were sadly just as squishy as their colonial guard counterparts, except the krogan shock group in the unit who were decked out in so much armor they may as well have been exosuits. Indeed they even had a few built in weapons, each fireteam leader had a Mulcher chain shotgun, and their squad riflemen had a heavy machine gun derived from the Pathfinder style squad support weapon. 

John had no question as to whether they could rip his power armored body in half if they so desired it. 

Speaking of his squad, his marines were the second best armored, the most mobile, and the most heavily armed, He had two squad support guns, a missile launcher, plenty of explosives, and were even graced with the newest edition plasma weaponry, the mark VII plasma PDW, recharging and armor piercing, a significant upgrade from the old mark IVs.

“Right, so here’s the plan Lieutenant Wrex,” John started, “Some of your men will be on the surrounding buildings, we got rooftops, and can move quickly by maintenance skids. Petrodes, you’ll have the gun pits. Me and my Marines will hide in these maintenance accessways, and when the enemy passes, we’ll sickle them.” 

A simple plan. A good plan. Wrex nodded in approval, “Hit them from all sides, the front, the top, the back. I like it.” 

~[-]~

Everyone was just getting into position, when a fresh wave of shooting stars started to descend from the heavens. A lot of shooting stars. Suddenly triple A turrets across the city started to light up, lasers, guns, rail cannons, first a distant “bwaam” of the lasers, then the higher pitched screaming of the railcannons, and finally the chattering “chunk-chunk-chunk” of guns. The shooting stars were slow, much too slow for orbital bombardment, but also too fast for assault frigates and dropships. 

Then what could they be? He saw at first a few dozen. Falling glittering lights, angling towards the city. Then it started to multiply exponentially, soon, the very sky was covered in falling burning metal husks. Many exploded, thousands even, it didn’t abate. His helmet computer calculated their landing paths, not all would hit the city, even as huge a target as a 500 mile radius plateau would be.

One angled close, buffeted by nearby anti air, it twirled, spun, flipped even a couple times, before righting, and then, screaming like a banshee impacted the ground a block away. Even now more were raining down, “Alright Marines, we’re the reserves let’s check out that impact.” The ten marines made affirmative noises and then initiated their jumpjets and jumped to the next building over, climbed up and then ran along the rooftops down the block. Shepard radioed their intentions and recieved a go ahead from Wrex. 

A voice piped up in John’s ear, it was Athena’s, “Lieutenant Shepard, the enemy appears to be using orbital drop vehicles to deploy special forces. I’ve detected one in your area trying to hack into my systems, please deal with the fool before I make a mess.” Athena highlighted on his hud minimap the location of the infiltrator. A metro station it would appear. 

“Understood advisor, moving to position marked. Move it marines!” Subconsciously they moved as one, having drilled independently at their respective former training centers and almost obsessively on the shipboard combat simulator. The terrain was different, the plan the same.

They’d form into three teams, two of three and one of four, with John leading one group, McIntire leading the second fireteam and Ikersie leading the third, John would breach and flush the enemy out, McIntire would engage in close range, while the remaining fireteam, would remain in reserve as over watch who would snipe and corral the target if it tried to escape. 

John found the empty pod, it was an ovaline and stout design, cheap, with airbrakes, and a thick viscous fluid having filled the entire pod before hand, his helmet analysed it and he prodded a puddle, shock absorbing fluid. Crafty bastards. Fill the pod with fluid and your man, send it screaming down, the AA guns could fire all they want, a direct hit would only kill a single trooper at most. A bit more primitive then Terran similar systems, it looked like it lacked pilot guidance, various quality of life features like a bit of extra room, and a few other features, but it was serviceable.

Taking the analysed fluid, Athena routed him to the nearest sub station accessway, where he had entered. “McIntire, get the flank, Ikersie stay on overwatch.” 

Reaching the entrance they breached it professionally, and proceeded to sweep through it rapidly, but with an eerily quiet that one would have to look for to hear. 

Hand signals exchanged, the team moved. Every little breath and sound accentuated by the still air, sounding closer to gunshots than quiet pattering on concrete floor. His hud lit up with directions from Athena. There was no guarantee their target was distracted by his actions, he could have an autohacker or some form of computer equipment to integrate while he merely defends, and he could know they were coming as well.

Every action therefore was a concentrated game of risk and reward, it was a mental game of deception, where one had to think a dozen steps ahead and constantly adjust-

Or Athena could just give him a feed using the subway terminal’s security cameras. 

That fell a bit flat. Well he could still take a pot shot at them. They formed up on a terminal entrance, then breached into it, he was hiding behind the ticket counter, having used a device to cut open the metal and reinforced glass booth to try and hack into the city's mainframe. Unfortunately its distance foreclosed the usage of a stun or flash grenade, and using some explosives in the city immediately for one enemy would be a bit hard to explain, they would have ample opportunity later to kill multiple targets and scarcely the chance to resupply explosives. 

However, his designated marksmen took aim, only to flinch back and return to cover as accelerated splinters the size of pebbles shrieked past. Hughes, his marksmen, cursed out a hissed, “Shite.” The team fell back to cover as splinters of concrete and dust were billowed from the walls as the lone gunman laid out covering fire for himself. 

Shepard’s breath hitched into his throat, his heartbeat accelerated. 

Battle. He had been told stories by his parents of what it was like, but they themselves admitted their descriptions were but poor imitations of what his first time fighting for his life would be like. His palms bean to sweat, as he looked to his men, he was in truth their junior, each of them were at least a ten year combat veteran of the mobile infantry, he himself was fresh from academy and had yet to experience true combat. Close and lifelike simulations, but the subconscious knowledge that this was the real deal made them all feel mute. 

But he looked to his men and he knew, they were counting on him and his leadership, he could not disappoint them. “McIntire, you in position?” He called out, steadying his breath as Hughs leaned out and fired a burst of plasma projectiles before the assistant gunner fired, and then a much longer burst from his squad gunner using a Yini Mina E-Pulse-88 LMG. They alternated fire with Shepard joining in after the last MG burst. 

“One minute boss. Getting a flank on his position.” McIntire reported as the steccato continued. Shepard risked a look around the corner as the MG fired and looked for any possible cover. There was a pillar and a few benches.

Firing his burst and laying his back flat against the wall he breathed, “Fireteam cover me, moving to pillar.” He ordered. He’d have to get closer to either get a clean shot or flush him from his position. 

His men acknowledged, and paused for a second, then when Shepard was ready, the MG fired again, stitching a line of bullets dents into the cover the Batarian had. Shepard sprinted from cover as quickly as possible, nearly diving behind the pillar. The Batarian remained pinned, and Shepard took a deep breath, before repeating the feat to the row of benches, which he then dutifully crawled along as quickly as possible. 

He got halfway when McIntire pipped up, “In position boss, we got a good murder hole on your left towards the service accessway.” 

Shepard grunted with effort as he rapidly crawled, “Hear you loud and clear Mac. Trying to flush or kill him. Far side of the benches.” Shepard retorted. 

McIntire made a contemplative sound before he spoke, “Ay yup, see you sir. Careful, The bat could have a shot on you.” 

Shepard held back his pithy riposte as he finally dragged his ass across ten meters of benches. He was out of breath, his heart thumped like a steam train, and bullets whizzed past him. Taking a steadying breath, John fought back his thumping heart and looked past the Bench. His hud analysed the material at this angle and he was relieved to see it was a thin plywood paneling. 

Readying his rifle, he took aim, and his snoopers briefly flashed on line, thermals were unreliable due to the gunfire, x-ray also unreliable, that left Athena accessing the camera and his suits making the calculations. After a moment Athena delivered, and his integrated sights told him the optimal trajectory. He lined them up, and squeezed, a burst of plasma spat out, and he waited. The rest of the fire stopped as well, Hughes was undoubtedly scoped in as well, and ready for when he popped his head out, McIntire also having his flanking view. 

Shepard waited, when he adjusted his aim as it was updated, and he released a trio more bursts of plasma, then leaping to his feet, he charged to the ticket booth window, taking aim, sighting the Batarian, dead. Hopefully. 

Yellowish red liquid poured out of a hole in the upper chest, as well as his pelvis and legs from where the explosive bursts of plasma blew chunks out of his armor and deep gouges in flesh. First impact shattered shields, second smashed tech armor, third pierced the hardsuit.

A Citadel rifle can easily kill as well, if unprotected, it’d lacerate organs, tear flesh, and cause tissue expansion and trauma from its passage, a Federation rifle with appropriate ammo however made such a seemingly painful impact infinitely worse, explosive charges with added weight tore apart armor, flesh, skin, and hide. Medigel would have to be liberally applied in handfuls to halt the bleeding and weeks would need to be spent in the hospital, for a hit that pierced the armor, it was an extremely quick end, as the round explodes in your body, shatters bone, and likely impacts and crushes the heart, in the lower abominable space it would tear apart the intestines and stomach, shock is instant, blood loss substantial, you fall unconscious in seconds, before you knew what hit you, death in under a minute, you’d need to be in a hospital or under the scalpel already to have a chance of survival. Impact in the extre-

McIntire shook his shoulder, and Shepard snapped over, raising his gun slightly before lowering it, seeing who it was. McIntire had a slight smile, before it deformed, it became fake, he called to his gunner, pointing to the body, then he gently, but firmly took his shoulder and lead him away, “you got him boss.” He whispered, but Shepard hardly heard him, his heart thumped in his chest, threatening to overtake his throat. 

He was so tired, so exhausted, how long did the fight last? An hour? Two? His chronometer read one minute past first shot fired. He looked to McIntire, both his shoulders gripped in his great strength. The broad Irishman observed him, and looked right past his helmet’s visor to his eyes. He met those hazel orbs that stared into his soul. Steely and seasoned. “don’t worry boss, first time is different for everyone.” Again he whispered, why was he whispering? 

“just look at me boss, look at the light.” What light? Suddenly, like a pendulum a light started to swing, left. right. left. right. The rest of McIntire’s words were droned out. Shepard felt something over take him…..

~[-]~

“I asked what it was like?” Shepard started, and looked to and fro. What happened? He was back at the boulevard, it was dark now, the previous dusky sky had fully set and now the primary source of illumination was the falling stars and the anti aircraft artillery firing lasers and rail cannons to the heavens. 

“I’m… I’m what’s going on?” Shepard asked, confused for a moment and reaching up to his head. 

“Oh yeah, you were kinda conked out of here when you and your squad returned from your skirmish. Sergeant McIntire said something about you getting a bit of a blow to the head or something along those lines, told you, quote ‘get a couple winks of sleep boss’. Can’t blame him, you’ve been up for what? 20 hours straight now? You just woke up like five minutes ago.” Petrodes offered Shepard a cup of something steaming. 

Feeling like he had a truck run him over, Shepard looked to the CC who was for the moment helmetless. With slightly shaking hands he removed his own, and now he could hear the thundering of gunfire, ships falling, and aircraft strafing. It smelled of fire and sulfur, cordite hung in the air like a perfume, and his head pounded something fierce. 

Taking the cup and smelling it, it was coffee, good coffee. Probably also had a bit of something extra. He inhaled again, nutty, with a slight bitter scent, and the tell tale aftertaste of combat stress suppressants. He took a searching sip, testing the waters, it burned, hot, but he savored it anyways. 

“Your sergeant said to drink up.” Petrodes smiled as they both leaned against the obsidian pillar, “Been quiet here, so far, nothing yet. Radio’s going crazy though, what few reports I got was that your saboteur was not alone.” He looked questioningly at Shepard, then lit up like he remembered something, “Oh, and the Batarians have finally landed, took ‘em long enough, first reports were they tried landing in the mangroves around the plateau, but they quickly changed their minds when they sank. Started to just ram themselves into the landing fields and farms, our boys there got overrun in 20 minutes, too many ships landing and beaching themselves. Estimates put at least 100,000 bats and counting. With that number climbing by ten thousand every ten minutes.” Shepard nodded, from what he saw, there was plenty of real estate you could just land yourself down on, despite the anti aircraft fire, and possibility of squishing your own men, these were inevitabilities when you were restricted to such a small landing zone and forced to land such a number of men in such a short frame of time. Shepard took a long drag of his now cooled coffee, wishing to drink as much of it before it became fouled by ash and dust. 

“So… What was it like? Combat I mean.” Petrodes inquired. 

Shepard paused mid gulp and then retracted the cup from his face, “Well. It’s loud, stressful, tiring. If you’ve ever been in the simulations, like that, except know that if you fuck up, you or your men can die. That kinda…. Make the simulations feel like a cheap imitation. Huh…” Shepard took another long sip, with his cup now mostly empty, he was feeling much better, the building migraine had receded for now.

“What sir?”

“I don’t remember who made the killing shot. Hmm.” Shepard drummed his fingers on the metallic cup, then he flexed his hand in a gesture of exasperated admittance of giving up, “Ah well, McIntire knows I’m sure.” Finishing the cup and handing it back to Petrodes, resealing his helmet, “Thanks for that by the way, I feel… much better now. How long until they reach our line?” 

Taking the cup Petrodes checked his timepiece, “Ehhh… thirty minutes if the retreat keeps up, we’re pulling back and slowing them as we evacuate. We’re keeping ahead, already had our fair share of retreating, wounded, and civilians moving like bats out of hell. Only a matter of time now.”

Shepard rubbed the back of his helmet, “Christ, how long was I out?”

“About two hours, Lieutenant Wrex was going to update you and your disposition when you woke up. On the bright side, a lot of the retreating guys left us their spare ammo and explosives, got my men setting up a minefield, the rear guard is set to come up any minute now.” Petrodes explained cheerfully. 

Shepard nodded and patted his arm, “Good man.”

Walking towards Wrex’s gunpit, Shepard climbed in and was met by a fire team of Batarian Foreign Legionnaires checking weapons and ammo. Last minute checks before the storm came to them. The sergeant in their group looked up and nodded, “Sir, Lieutenant Wrex is waiting to see you.” 

Shepard nodded in acknowledgement, and entered the gunpit armory. It was a cramped space the best of times, in good times this gunpit fulfilled its intended usage as a storm drain, with the adjoining door chained shut and hermetically sealed from the public. In times like these, the surprisingly spacious interior of the drain itself could be used as a gunpit, the flush drain would work well enough to throw live grenades down when they inevitably got skipped into the chamber, and the hermetically sealed door would open into a small room with storage lockers, filled with ammo and spare weapons.

Wrex was there, McIntire and a few of Wrex’s sergeants as well, his entrance ended the talking, “Ah Shepard, welcome back. Had a nice nap?” Wrex grinned wryly, his helmet removed for now. 

“Yes sir.” Shepard fought for anything else to say but left it at that. 

“Good, come to the table.” Reaching it, a laminated map of the plateau was plainly visible, magnetic markers signified the positions of units, and dry erase markers identified the lines, they were getting worryingly cose to their own magnetic unit marker, “Okay now that Sheep Herd is here, we can get to the important stuff. The Elysium Special Weapons and Tactics unit, about 200 men, is currently screening the enemy advance before us, last I heard from Captain Uhlman, who has just departed our dear station, it's made up of an amalgamation of five different units, facing us, will be at least a brigade of a thousand Batarian scouts and fast moving armored vehicles, likely soft skinned trucks and armored cars with some heavy cannons. Now I don’t know what they told you before, but I’ve fought Batarians.” Wrex pulled up a tablet and it showed a zoomed in depiction of the city map along their front, “We have a similar make up of troops supporting our flanks, Lieutenant Isaac,” The 33rd Elysium Civic Guard coat of arms appeared, “and Captain Shin Huang,” The 98th Terran Chinese Divisional Logo spun, “Hold our flanks, and we hold theirs, but we’re the widest road by far, which means we’re going to get the bulk of Batarian armor and infantry coming down our throats.” He looked to everyone meaningfully, “If they’re following typical doctrine, the Batarians are using their forward scouts aggressively, they’ll have drones, Citadel designed of course, to try and scout our position before using light artillery, likely infantry mortars and motorized light howitzers to suppress us, before infiltrating their infantry as close as possible, then charging the distance.”

The tablet simulated the advance, “Shepard, we’re going to have to modify the plan, your the most mobile asset I have, so I can't risk your entire unit getting wiped by a few lucky hits, instead I took the liberty and had two of your fireteams dig in on the extreme flanks,” this formed a far crescent on the tablet, the two buildings which looked over a perpendicular street about 100 meters down the wide boulevard, recon duty, and to keep the enemy infantry from using the buildings to get closer to the line, in close quarters where the much superior armor, weaponry, and skill of his marines would give their most telling results, “I’m keeping you and your fire team on the roofs. You fine with that.” Shepard blinked, and studying for a bit more looked to McIntire, “I believe so, you’ve got the experience.”

Wrex barked a laugh, “Well thank you for that vote of confidence, right, you know those roofs better than I, so get comfortable up there and make a few spider holes, I don’t want to lose a good head like yours to some shrapnel Sheep Herd. He smiled a big flat toothed grin, “Okay then,” he pulled the tablet away so they could see the full map again, “It's likely the Batarian commander knows that this is the best position to make an armored push up, if he has half a brain cell he’ll have a map of the city and know that we’re the widest gap and reach all the way to the city center,” he traced the line all the way from their position to the Citadel, “We have manned hardpoints along the entire road of course, but we have to hold long enough for the evacuation.” He raised his wrist and checked his own timepiece, “Our perimeter line has been evacuated, but the next line is still being pulled out, estimates put it at an hour tops, so we hold for two hours.”

Shepard nodded, McIntire, being the more seasoned soldier, asked the question, “After the initial assault by the scouts, what's up next?”

Wrex pulled up the tablet and thumbed through it a bit, “Recon believes the first Batarian armored division is just now being landed and their vehicles will take at least an hour to unload, our intel on their officers isn’t very good, but if I know them they’ll move what they got up as quickly as possible as they become available. They’ll likely be routed to us being the best position for their tanks to move up on, if they wait however we will hopefully have fallen back to the next line before significant armored vehicles can dislodge us. Now thats worst case scenario, best case, we have sighted a sizable formation, divisional strength, of Batarians heading right for us, mostly infantry with self propelled artillery in support, we have air superiority at the moment which is slowing the vehicles, we expect them to reach us in forty five minutes, they’re hot on the heels of the scouts. Most of them are conscripts I’d wager, but the scouts themselves are soldier caste, and well motivated, any we don’t kill will assume command of the incoming conscripts and lead them forward.”

McIntire flashed a smile, “So Lieutenant, when was the last time you fought the Batarian army?” 

Wrex tilted his head so that one eye was on him, “One hundred years go, at an independent Asari colony, some no named warlord of about a hundred thousand soldiers wanted to take it over, colony hired me and about a dozen of my clan alongside a Turian PMC. Warlord was a descendent of the soldier caste and was trained in the traditional Batarian military arts.” 

“Hundred years? Christ, how long are you lived you dinosaur?”

“Ahh, lets just say my father was a major figure in the Krogan Rebellions, and he had me young too.” McIntire whistled.

Shepard couldn’t help but crack a smile and add, “Makes you a true dinosaur.” 

“I'm a downright fossil Sheep Herd, I could’ve met the Habsburgs and am older than the Ottoman Empire.” Wrex barked out another laugh, then nodded, “I’ll forward relevant information to you and the rest of your men Shepard, if all's good with you I need you in position to greet the-” The door opened again, revealing a powersuited woman, she was covered in ash, blood that was once on the armor was either baked on or covered in so much soot that it was a thick slurry which left black boot prints. 

Her IFF identified her as Chief Birdie Brockman.

She removed her helmet, her skin tone was a dark black, sunburned from decades of life and flushed with sweat and her lifeblood flowing in her veins, her greying hair was shaved to a stubble, and she looked to be in her early fifties. Her features were scarred from life as well as sunburn, having that suitable grizzled look that you’d imagine a veteran soldier would sport. She snapped a salute revealing her mechanical arm, if Shepard had to guess she had that mechanical arm since the early Second Bug War, before a bio replacement was a realistic option, and had it long enough that her nerve endings would not accept a new flesh and blood option. That or she wanted the permanent reminder to everyone who saw her. Some military veterans, of who Shepard met quite a few, loved it, since that meant they could get the relatively cushy job of Citizen recruitment, and give said recruits a few good frights with war stories and industrial accidents. 

“Chief of SWAT activities Birdie Brockman.” Christ, THE Birdie Brockman? Forget Early SECOND Bug War, she was there since the beginning when Rico’s Roughnecks was still Razack’s Roughnecks. Considering her grizzled exterior, she had aged well for her career choice. She was a living legend.

“Birdie Brockman? Part of Razak Roughnecks? You were on pluto?” John, the military enthusiast, not Shepard the Marine Lieutenant, asked. 

“I was with Razak from Pluto to the Gobicahn system in 22, lost my arm there to a tanker bug, if Razak hadn’t saved me. But I’m sure a few of you know that from that terrible movie they made a few years ago.” Oh yeah, definitely a terrible movie, but still. 

“You saw the birth of the whole damn war.” John gaped, amazed.

“So have you, the war we’re fighting right now kid, the one we’re fighting as we speak.” Birdie admonished, and Shepard realized the setting they were in right now, yeah keep it in your pants, if you both live through this you’ll have plenty to talk about in time.

“You got a report for me Chief?” Wrex asked professionally, “You’re ahead of schedule by ten minutes.” 

Birdie motioned to take one of the Legionnaires chairs, and they stood and offered it with no complaint, alongside a canteen of water and a nutrition smoothie, she took a gulp of water before speaking, “We’re doing our best, we had to go building to building looking for stragglers, lot of fools who think they can make a stand or those who got genuinely lost. The Batarians got a squadron of armored cars and hit my men while we finished checking the Izadi Mall, lost half my men in the chaos. Had to fall back.”

Wrex made a vaguely surprised look, before updating the TOE, “That brings up our total to two hundred and fifty.” 

“Set up the last of our charges and collapsed highway Bridge 223, that’ll slow their vehicles, not their infantry though, they got varren with them, and some heavy infantry equipment, as well as a few light mechanical mule combat drones that are carrying their supplies, along with some spotting UAV drones, they’ve run out of rocket and machine gun drones, so unless they get resupplied they’re lacking their more mobile assets. My men need to get resupplied, get the wounded out, and we have maybe ten minutes at most to water and eat up while we can.” Shepard nodded, and Wrex radioed to his unit. 

Birdie finally looked at herself as if for the first time, and then wrinkled her face in disgust, lacking towels or cloth, she settled with standing up and leaving to the storm drain to wipe herself off with her hands. Shepard followed with McIntire leaving, “Mac, relay the information to Petrodes and take the right fireteam, observe and eliminate HVTs.”

“Yes sir.” He donned his helmet, then placed a hand on Shepard’s shoulder, “Hey, boss, keep your head on straight, you’re doing good so far, keep it up.”

“Oh.” Shepard added, motioning for McIntire to stay for a moment longer, “Who ahhh, who made the killing shot?”

McIntire got a pensive look before nodding, “You did sir. First kill I believe, up close, could see the results, you did good under the pressure, just had to give you a little,” He made a warbling woo oooh, “to reset you, not the prettiest sight to see for your first kill, were in a bit of shock from the stress and adrenaline.”

Shepard could distinctly feel his face curl up, “You hypnotized me?” He asked almost incredulously. 

“Old trick I picked up in my years, can do it for most any grunt, except the oldest of the old timers, standard procedure I assure you, besides you needed to get some sleep anyways.” It wasn’t common knowledge among civilians, but the Federation did employ hypnotherapy and indoctrination among its soldiers, alongside many other methods of the killing arts, perfected in the 20th Century, pavlovian responses, instinct honing, militarized indoctrination, could make you kill on reflex and act without a second thought when given orders, even if it seemed suicidal. Helped the men overcome the fear and uncertainty of action that was common in World War Two armies, the old chestnut “Only fifty percent of the men shot to kill.” 

The hypnotherapy and indoctrination provided a safety net for soldiers, their instructors would hypnotise the men with prepared stimuli, extreme stress, fight or flight, shock. They taught the men how to meditate in even the most uncomfortable of circumstances, allow them to find peace and calm, as well as access certain portions of their mind, including the ability to shut down parts of their brain for a period of time for resting. It was a useful tool for extending a soldiers “Shelf life”, or the time a soldier could remain in the fighting field before entering their combat plateau and decline phase. McIntire had just used some of the prepared hypnotism to “Factory reset” his stress and doubt. An advanced skill, one that only a vetaran would know how to tap into. 

“Was I in that bad of shape?” Shepard asked quietly.

“You were in a bit of shock from it all, I could tell, and we need you at the top of your game, don’t worry, with the fight we’re having you won’t see your handiwork up close, I think that was the final straw that made you conk out. Besides, you needed a nap anyways, if you drank that coffee the anti stress stims should be kicking in, and you’ll have no qualms shooting a man dead.” He smirked, “You work way too hard. Now,” He began to check his combat webbing and armor for everything, making sure all it gear was where it should be, “I’m going to take the fireteam, I’ll stay in radio contact with you, we’ll wait on your call to fall back.” 

Shepard nodded, “If I didn’t know you Mac, I’d kick your ass right about now.”

“Aww sir, I love you too. Kisses.” McIntire smacked his lips before climbing his way out of the gunpit.

When he looked to Birdie she had her helmet on again and had wiped away most of the blood and ash that she could, “Hey, get my back, and make sure my suits unbreached will ya?”

“Yes ma’am.” Shepard assented and did so, cleaning off her system’s port and inserted a cable with his diagnostic tool. So far everything was checking out good. 

“That sergeant knows what he’s doing, keep him close kid. A good Sergeant is worth ten of you new officers.” Brockman explained.

“Yeah, McIntire’s a good man, just…. Well I didn’t realize he could do that is all.” Shepard admitted, “Met him in Marine boot, certainly taught me just as much as my DIs. Guess he kept a few tips and tricks to himself.” The Batarians in the gunpit had finished cleaning their gear and were now on the fire step, their sergeant was off the step, sitting at his place and chewing on what looked to be a cigar stub, his helmet visor lifted up for him to do so. 

The silence was a bit uncomfortable, but the Batarian sergeant broke it, “So how many stayed behind?”

Birdie looked to him, and shrugged, “So far? I dunno, ‘bout a thousand. Lot of ex military and police around here, few anti government types who wanted to get as far away from the core as possible, all got a plot of land here. You can only save those who want to be saved, if they’re not going to leave their homes there’s nothing much we can do about it, now can we?”

The Batarian nodded. Then checked his pockets and pulled out a cigarette case and lighter, offering one to Birdie. Shepard couldn’t see her face but she lifted up her visor and took a smoke. He could hear her light it up and see on his diagnostic tool the notice that she was smoking. 

“A shame.” The Batarian commented, “That may be true but, it doesn’t sit right to leave them there to die because they’re fools.” The door opened again, and the assembled sergeants and Wrex left, going one by one up the ladder to meet their individual squad, one of them patted his shoulder and held up a hand, four minutes.

“We did what we could to get them out, the only thing we can do, but a lot weren’t budging, gave them as much time as we could to get out. Very well can’t force them anyways, just hope they had the good sense to keep their heads down for now.” The Batarian nodded, looking sour on the logic but understanding it. 

Shepard was scanning the information before spotting something, “Got a crack in your torso armor.” He explained. Birdie nodded her head, “Internal oxygen is good, bio suit integrity holding, battery life set at another 48 hours before recharge necessary. Let's get to that crack before you take another bullet there.” A crack was getting off light for the fighting she went through, problem being if another bullet hit the location it may spank off but the force could cause the armor to cave in and cause internal damage, break ribs, harm tissue, that sort of thing. 

The sergeant came off his step and offered Shepard a rag, which he used to wipe off the affected part of her chest piece, “So uh… Chief if you don’t mind me asking, who’s all over you?” Shepard asked in small talk as he found the hidden crack in her right side chest armor, from the look of it an autocannon round had narrowly impacted her at a sharp oblique angle, cracking the armor and even denting the sharp edge out a bit, but by all accounts she was supremely lucky.

She thought for a minute before speaking, as Shepard cleaned off the affected area, preparing it for sealing, “My second in command, Henri Dubois, good man, Batarian armored car just rolled up from behind some trees lining the mall and strafed our position, Henri was to my right. Blew him right apart, the first thing I knew we were being shot at I was on the ground covered in him, his chest exploded with his innards evacuated from the shell is my guess.”

Okay less lucky, more meatshield. As terrible as it was to think that. Shepard removed from his back a sealant canister and a mini spot welder, the sparks as he first applied the sealant then welded the crack resulted in his visor dimming significantly, “Not many lieutenants have engineer equipment Shepard.” Brockman commented.

“Top of my class ma’am. Parents insisted I take the engineering subcourse instead of yet more tactical and fitness. Said if I didn’t like the infantry life the navy could always use more deck engineers and tech-troopers.” Shepard explained, “Alright, all good.”

“Parent’s sound like smart people.” Brockmen commented off handedly.

“Both are captains of their own warships. Sister went into the Mobile Infantry, left me to continue the family naval tradition, I can’t stand practical physics, but I can work with my hands like nobody's business,” he chuckled, “I had at least ten of my parent’s friends just about beg me to reconsider the marines and come on as ensign for their engineering crews. But I wanted to do a tour as a Marine before considering a pure naval posting. I uh… Never really liked the idea of a pure naval posting. I think I would feel too helpless on a ship.” Shepard patted her shoulder to signify he had finished.

She gave him a look of utter disbelief, “Wait wait wait, you chose being a fucking marine over a naval posting? You’re fucking insane.” A grin grew over her lips as she threw away her cigarette butt, “I think you’ll fit right in Shepard. Now if you’ll excuse me kid, I have two minutes to get to my men.” She offered her hand to shake and when he took it she chuckled, “Feel too helpless! Hah, helpless…” She trailed off as she began to climb up the ladder.

The Batarian sergeant nodded to him, “Lieutenant.” He offered his hand, which he took, “Just remember, us in grey are on your side. We have no love lost for our brothers in the Hegemony.” He nodded, giving a needle like half smile.

“I’ll keep that in mind sergeant, just keep them off our backs when we close the distance.” Shepard returned half smile as well. 

“You got it lieutenant, although I’d be more worried about Lieutenant Wrex’s home wreckers, he and his Krogan are going to kick serious ass before this is out.” Giving one last nod to each other, Shepard rose out of the storm drain and Wrex offered him a hand, which he took and was raised out of the gunpit. 

The sound of battle was now undeniably close, Shepard could even see the tracers from both sides down the street as the rear guard SWAT and amalgamated forces were pulling back up the street towards their roundabout circle. Wrex took a firm grip on him and moved him away to the central circle of the roundabout, where the obsidian pillar rose, and a trench was dug out of the earth there to the concrete below it about two meters, pretty big and recent since it wasn’t finished when he took his nap. 

He had his helmet on now, and Shepherd put his visor down, “Okay, new information, the rearguard has about thirty SWAT officers, twenty members of the Colonial Guard, fourteen militia and former military, and the remaining thirty odd are Federal aligned mercs. He pointed to various men in the trench pit with them, most were wounded, and being tended to by the medics in Wrex’s unit, preparing them for evacuation, as well as the few others who were getting some last minute water and chow in before fighting once more, shoveling lukewarm leftovers and sipping from electrolyte packs. 

Shepard was glad his visor hid his gawking amazement at how they looked, and were still eating and drinking. He spotted a few who were even laying down getting a few minute catnap. 

One of the mercenaries who was formerly napping, an asari sat up and looked to them, “Wrex! Urdnot fucking Wrex?!” She stomped over and butted her helmeted head against Wrex, “So that explains the rumors you were out of the freelance business!” 

Wrex had the vague look of pleased surprise and chuckled, “Jurain! It's good to see you still leading, where’s the rest of your outfit?”

“All over the colony, we were window shopping for new gear when the alarm went off. I only got five of my girls but I was voted representative of our collected group. Birdie gives good rates!” She explained as the firing got closer now. A burst of rounds went over their head, one impacting the obsidian obelisk, not even scratching its surface.

“As much as I’d love to catch up, we're about to be under fire. Anyone I’d know?” Wrex asked quickly, snapping his head above the parapet sideways, getting a look at the retreating members of the adhoc unit who were now reaching the first lines of gunpits and jumping in. 

“We have members of Clan Yurnic, ‘bout three Krogan, some of the Forest Company, one squad of turians, and three freelance Salarian techs.” Wrex nodded and put his head down.

“Good, Shepard, take one of the techs and keep him breathing, if you’re willing Jurain, I want his men to have a biotic with them to give them some barriers and warp support.” 

She nodded, rolling her shoulder, “My girls are pretty spent, where’s he going?”

Wrex pointed to the top of the building to their right, “Top of that building, sniper and flank support.” 

She looked up, “Good vantage point, he Shepard?” She asked, of which Shepard nodded, “Good, I’ll go with you and keep you breathing, we’ll meet you up there.” She shoved a full protein bar into her mouth and chewed, now speaking with her mouth full, “Awroght, ah’ll mave de ‘est in a wogical ‘ersition,” She swallowed hard, even as the road to their right was impacted with a resounding explosion, shrapnel whizzing over their heads. The Scouts were firing their light artillery, “The turians will provide the center of fire. You want the Krogan?” 

“No keep the Krogan as a reserve, I want them to make sure we don’t get any biotic charges into our center.” Wrex finished, “Okay Shepard, get up that building and do your thing. You’re my eye in the sky, I’ll handle things down here.”

Shepard nodded, and when the last shell fell, used his jump jets to just leap out of the trench and started an immediate sprint across the street to the building’s lean to support. He hugged the side around the building to an alley, where quick ascension ropes were clipped, he attached his ascendor, and clipped the rope to his harness, he began to rapidly ascend at a brisk pace, the ziiiiiiip of his ascendor nearly drowning out the rising pitches of battle. 

Pulling himself over the lip of the armored shutter, he was on the roof for a roughly ten storey apartment spire. His fireteam was here, his Laser gunner replaced with Dodgeson, the anti armor expert, he had a plasma PDW as well as a thermic javelin, a very new piece of Plasma Anti tank kit, that would theoretically be able to fire a hundred superheated charges, capable of punching through most any practical armor before needing to be replaced with an entirely new internal assembly, powercore, and backpack fusion generator. Shepard hoped they won’t be confirming that little statistic. 

“Sir, looks like we have a company sized formation of Batarians moving up after the rearguard.” Hughes relayed as he leaned over the makeshift parapet and fired his Yini-Mina E-Pulse 98 precision laser, a speciality piece of kit for Marines and elite formations of men, they took from the internal powersource of the suit much like the YM LMG and the PDWs they used, giving a practically unlimited ammunition supply, at the cost of range and stopping power. Of course what the Federation considered lacking stopping power is if you couldn’t kill a soldier bug in a single burst. For the average Citadel infantrymen their thin centimeter armor and shields were paper to Federal arms. 

To be fair the Federation’s threshold for overkill was much much higher than the Citadel’s, whose biggest bastard they normally had to deal with are Krogan. The federation had to take on creatures that would consider Krogan a prey species, could demolish entire colonies in an hour, and whose psychic prowess could cause entire remigments of men to go mad.

And the price for firepower was not cheap, Shepard had the pleasure to fire Citadel designed arms, they were light, small, their recoil manageable without power suit recoil dampers, and their ammunition supplies essentially limitless. In comparison, Federal arms were heavy, bulky, fired full sized rifle cartridges, relied heavily upon chemical cartridges, and carrying around a fusion generator was considered preferable then the solid ammunition.

The bright translucent beam that came and left with the blink of an eye was Hughes firing, who pulled back and ran down to another firing position alongside his wingman, letting his weapon cool in the meantime. Shepard himself settled next to Dodgeson to act as his loader and target assistant, not like he needed to actually load the oversized cannon, but an extra pair of hands to wrangle the machine and acquire targets was never turned down.

“Hold your fire until they bring up a vehicle, we’ll be keeping the harpoons for their big tanks.” Shepard ordered as he brought down his snoopers and began to provide Wrex with a better viewpoint of the battle then the ground level sightlines the Krogan had. The street lights were turned off, and the buildings storm shutters blocked any lights they may be producing. The near pitch dark meant that the Federal’s snoopers provided another advantage, as they could plainly see the them while the Batarians would struggle to return the favor. The Colonial Guard and Foriegn Legionnaires were doing their duty. The street had an extremely limited amount of cover, while the storm drains and upraised road barriers provided the Federal Forces with an obscene cover superiority, the only cover for the invaders being the building’s own crenelations and decorations. Looking at it from a birds eye view, Shepard saw where the leading edge of the Batarians were ambushed, hot on the heels of the SWAT they were allowed to close to the distance of twenty meters where upon they were shot dead where they had been pursuing. 

The turn in battle had evidently surprised the Batarians as they were now still pushing, not realising just how big of a force opposed them. Indeed they likely outnumbered the bats right now. 

Shepard scanned the Batarian lines, looking for their officers. Hughes found one first, as as soon as Shepard had locked his gaze upon one, the alien’s chest wobbled and then evaporated, exploding into a cloud of steamed metal and blood vessels, collapsing to the ground dead. Shepard looked away before he could see the more sickening aspects of his demise, in the simulators the developers took great pains to make it as realistic as possible, with the inclusion of guts schlopping out of a person’s body when their upper half had been exposed to the breeze, among other things. 

To see it, to know it was real, Shepard fought down the urge to gag. Forget what a video game may show you, even the most graphic of entertainment would struggle to demonstrate just how disgusting it could be. 

Jurain chose this moment to collapse beside him and lay flat on her stomach, before overturning and laying down on her back on the gravel roofing, “Mhmmm, I could just take a nap right the fuck now.” She swooned, even as Shepard saw her resting her eyes. 

“Hey, hey not right now.” Shepard scolding and collapsed next to her, shaking her entire body.

“Ahhh,” She moaned sadly, “you’re no fun... Alright, alright pull me up.” Shepard assisted in pulling herself up right. She peeked above the parapet, before ducking back down. Shepard did the same, and saw the Batarians after a few dozen seconds of hopeless fighting, realize they were way outclassed, and retreated. Leaving behind more than half their number dead in their unrealised frontal assault. Shepard and the rest of his Marines took this opportunity to shoot them in their backs, downing a good dozen before they had escaped past the street. 

Jurain collapsed back to the ground, laying down and sighing deeply. Shepard did so too, and blinked a menu for his water tube. Dodgeson got behind cover as well and did the same.

“Hey you boys have a spare bottle of water?” Jurain asked quietly, almost as a whisper. The two checked themselves for a spare canteen and Dodgeson came upon his first and tossed it to her. Where upon she uncapped it and used a handful to clean off her blue skinned face and then take a series of gulps. Offering it back Dodgeson, who took it and then took his position as vigilant sentinel. 

Down below, Shepard could see his squad’s shared feed, the hulking figure of wrex rapidly moving his arm, and the stretcher bearers carrying off the wounded. Shepard looked to the Asari, she was lightly armored, as was the tradition for her people, strong barriers and shields combined to form a lightweight hard hitting package.

“So…. how many did you lose?” He finally asked, to break the terrifying and sudden silence that had descended on the street. 

“Seven. Two of the Turians, three sisters, krogan, and Salarian tech. Krogan and Salarian in an artillery barrage, the Turians to assorted enemy fire, sisters to an armored car when trying to flank.” She sounded cold about it all, but not entirely without emotion.

“I’m sorry to hear that.” Shepard consoled. 

“Yeah, well it was going to be one thing or another. Just didn’t expect a major war to be it.” Her chest was rising and falling, eyes closed. 

Shepard searched around his pockets before coming across an MRE. Opening it he removed the desert packet and offered it to the Asari, “Here, get some juice in ya.”

She shifted her head to eye it before taking it and ripping it open. From the packaging it was a glazed cinnamon bun. Pretty terrible cold, and not warmed up next to the flameless ration heater, but she had an appreciative moan as she bit into it, “Ah by the Goddess I need this.” She chewed a few more times and took another huge bite before she looked at him upside down and asked, “Euw knaw biatics?” Mouth full.

“Yeah, my sister’s one. She was always a ravenous little bastard. Figured all biotics have to be.” Shepard explained, chuckling at the image of his younger sister when they were kids, eating an entire pale or ice cream and not even gaining an ounce of fat.

“Hah! Ain’t that right, can’t ever gain any fucking weight. Which I mean, good I can eat whatever the fuck I want. But bad, since having a little fat on your bones gets all the right attention these days.” She chewed thoughtfully.

“So whatcha doing on Elysium?” Shepard inquired, seeking to pass the time before the next wave of Batarian’s crashed upon them.

“Hiring on new hands, getting new gear, shopping around for some new contracts. Hah, funny enough, was getting harassed by a recruiter for the Foriegn Legion, ‘new and interesting opportunities,’ he said, ‘from here and beyond.’ Count me and my girls out, too flighty.”

“Any other biters you think?”

“Not that I could see, Mercs don’t come to Elysium looking to sign up to the military Shepard, mercs come for the companionship, firepower, and contracts.” Jurain shifted on the ground as he looked to the black smoke covered sky, “It’s why we grouped up so quickly, we were all at the same place at the space port, I saw about a thousand other mercs suddenly get conscripted into this fight, Chief Brockman was there and declared we’d all get a fat contract if we joined up on the spot, considering our predicament, I don’t think anyone turned down free gear and hundred thousand credits per head.”

Shepard nodded and took another gulp of water before blinking the menu so the tube retracted. Resting for the moment, he connected to the battle net. Listening into the various squad chats it was typical bable, men calling for ammo checks, others being checked if they were wounded, and the occasional low level side chatter. 

After skimming them, shepard moved his channel over to McIntires, “Mac, you see anything good?”

“Uhh, I see a lot of good things sir, you gave them a real beating and they’re regrouping, I’ve identified their officer and he’s looking pissed, hopping around mad as he paces around speaking into his helmet. The rest of the enemy column is catching up as now, they got their mortars through, and from what I can see with my drone, they’ve bridged the destroyed overpass and are moving their armored cars over. I give a few minutes at most before they prepare another assault. They’re just taking the moment to eat and drink now, but they’re looking ready to give you another shot. I’ll paint eh officer and the mortars while they’re making their next assault, give Huges and our counter fire some help.

Shepard acknowledged, “Understood, I’ll relay.” 

He shifted the channel over to Wrex, “Shepard reporting for scouts.”

“Go ahead Shepard.”

“Estimation a few minutes before they push up once more, enemy has mortars setting up and armored vehicles en route.”

“Understood Shepard, Keep a clear eye up there.” Wrex acknowledged. With that transition of information conducted, Dodgeson tapped him, “Get a few minutes of sleep, sir.”

While he doubted it would do much good, Shepard got comfortable against the parapet, and laid back. Jurain joined him and rested right up against him, “Just a few minutes.” She mumbled, leaned her head back, and fell right unconscious. 

Shepard looked on in a bit of amazement, but tried to do the same. 

No matter how hard he tried, he felt the seconds tick by. His heart beat in his chest, and every rumble and crump in the distance only echoed in his helmet. Closing his eyes finally, he was shaken by Dodgeson, “Sir get in position.”

Shaking Jurain awake who herself leapt up and got behind them, he moved to assist Dodgeson with the thermic javelin.

Whistling began a second later, and mortars started to fall from the sky and impact the street. Normally protected in their full body powered armor, John and his squad had no fear of shrapnel piercing their armored visors at this distance, but for the Foreign Legion and Colonial Guard down below, the threat of shrapnel was real. Hence why he and his men were keeping a close eye on the Batarians as they advanced, to give the rest of them the perfect time to strike, under the assumption that they were fully pinned down.

He watched as the Batarians poked their heads out down the street, lifted grenade launchers, fired out, and continued to do so, blanketing the streets remarkably well with banks of billowing hot smoke. It would seem the Batarians would use their natural aggression and close range aptitude to close the distance as fast as possible to the Federal forces, and engage them in close quarters battle. 

A smart move Shepard thought, they were relying on delaying the Batarians by using the open street. The federal forces began to lay down sporadic pining fire, using pre trained drills to fire into the smoke at likely entry points for the Batarians. A practice that had been pioneered in the twentieth century and made all the more effective with time.

One that was not unknown, the smoke and the covering fire were merely modifiers to an already cluttered battlescape. Hughes fired, and Shepard saw on his hud that the painted target was now dead, or as dead as possible.

That should be their commanding officer… No wait he was still moving. Damn, fired too soon, and if he knew what was good for him he wouldn’t peak again. 

“Sir, that armored car column is coming down!” As soon as McIntire announced it, his snooper lit up with the fast moving heat signatures in the billowing smoke, trying to rush as close as possible. Hodgeson fired, and was rewarded with an explosion that caused the smoke to swirl mysteriously in the depths, as now the man made canyon filled up with obscuring colors and fiery embers. It was hell down there. 

“All units fire at will.” Wrex announced, giving up the pretext of any additional ambushes. Right about now the Colonial guard would be praying thanks to their patron gods for the foresight of full body NBC gear, as their position and gunpit flooded with smoke, ash hot and cloying at everything.

“Shepard, come in!” Wrex commanded. Just as Hdogeson fired another eye searingly bright, blink and you’ll miss it, beam that impacted another armored car sending it aflame as shrapnel whizzed by.

“Shepard here.” John acknowledged, as Jurain flexed forward a purple ball of energy, which splashed dover Hodgeson and covered him in bright purple energy, giving him a barrier. 

“Bad news, communique from landlines, We just lost air superiority… And further bad news, we lost it thirty minutess ago. Comms stations across the city are being attacked, we are reduced to landlines and close range radio communications.” Wrex explained as he heard the tell tale thunkathunkathunka of the morita ape specials firing and reloading. 

That was real bad news, and just as he processed it mentally Shepard looked up as the wind around him whipped into a frenzy, seeing a trio of Batarian gunships about to lend support, “Hodgeson!” He screamed and the man looked up and turned, going to one knee as he fired the massive DEW-lite and speared the leading Gunship as it banked over to get a clear line of sight on the boulevard, hitting the oversized engine pylon, it burst into flame as the fuel line ruptured and then exploded, causing a chain reaction which saw the vehicle gutted and whip around, tumbling to the ground directly below it on the Batarian held intersection. 

The two wingmen tried to process just what hit their formation so suddenly and pivoted around, John’s visor located one of the vehicle's optical arrays hung below the main cockpit, raising his weapon, he fired an opportunistic burst at one, shattering the camera there, before the other one caught sight of them, and started to fire its autocannon. 

Hodgeson fired again after the plasma recycled, hitting it directly on the nose, killing the pilot and gunner and causing it to lose control and then spin out, crashing to the side of a building and showering whoever was down below with debris and a still relatively intact gunship. The third blinded one, taking stock of the situation turned tail, went low at the intersection held by the Batarians and ducked below the skyline, playing it safe and smart. Hodgesons was about to turn to fire back down into the boulevard when chips and flecks of concrete started to spit up as the Batarians fired at their position. They knew they were there now.

“Shepard those armored cars are getting awfully close.” Wrex called out, the boom of his shotgun echoing out.

“Taking fire Wrex, we just downed two gunships.” He switched channels, “Hughes try and do your best to take out those armored cars.” Shepard turned his head upwards, looking for any further aerial assault, letting his helmets computer zoom in and tell him the info he needed. Batarians fighter craft were flying above the sky now, getting buffeted and destroyed by anti aircraft batteries and laser emplacements, but just as they fell more arrived to take their place. They were older variants but they certainly held an enormous amount of them in mothball. It was going to be hard enough without space supremacy, but if the enemy got air supremacy they wouldn’t need to fight them for the land they could eventually just bomb them for it. 

“Boss!” McIntire called, elongating the ‘O’, “We got a huge problem, Batarian Varush tanks, coming down the street, I count at least a company of ten.”

“Sir!” Hughes reported, “Trying to get a shot on those armored cars but the counter fire is a bit heavy, and I need at least a few shots to breech their engine housing!” 

Not good, not good at all, alongside the morita ape specials, the infantry carried one shot AT-28s, which can pierce their kinetic barriers and armor, but it took at least as long burst from a MAS, or one AT for the shields to go down, then a further follow up to put the bitch down permanently. The AT-28s were also one shot only to boot, meaning the more they used now on chaff the less they had for real tanks.

Fuck, right now their thermic javelin was the best anti vehicle weapon they had on hand, and it was too busy being shot at. They’d need to hold onto those Harpoons for the big bastard Varushes. “Shit shit shit shit shit!” He cursed under his breath

McIntire called again, “Sir another tank coming from south!”

“Just one?” Shepard returned, leaning over and picking off a Batarian who was trying to exit his burning IFV, as well as the rest of his crewmates using it as cover in the fire storm below. 

“It’s not Batarian sir!”

“Well whose is it?!” Shepard snapped a bit testily, not looking to play the game of “Guess the mobile killing machine”. 

McIntire smacked his lips audibly, “Well sir, I didn’t do too well in history, but my computer says it matches the outline of a German Panther circa 1945 World War 2.”

Shepard fell back and probably had an amazed dumbfounded look to him, “A german panther… what the… don’t tell me they have one of those tank fighting teams on this planet!” 

“Whatever it is sir it just fired a modified Citadellian mass driver into the leading Varush tank and just stopped up the whole column! Permission to lend some fire support!” McIntire sounded excited. 

“Wrex did you hear that?” Sheaprd asked as he leaned over the parapet once more and fired at a Batarian squad bunched up behind a support pillar for one of the buildings, causing the rest of them to scatter and get gunned own as well. 

“I caught a bit, McIntire, what’s the damage?”

“Pierced the shields, follow up shot just pierced armor and disabled it. From my reading and information, this panther is about on par paper wise with a Varush. But it's one versus nine and a whole lot of accompanying motorized infantry following up.”

Wrex grunted, “Do what damage you can McIntire, but keep breathing and don’t let them on your location.”

Shepard was still firing into the whirling maelstrom of smoke and fire below, Hodgeson finally got in a new good position, fired again, and was rewarded with another explosion, this time one very close to one of the gunpits. Another from Hughes as he finally pierced the armoured housing of an armored car, causing another armored car to stop dead, only for a Morita ape special to pierce it and detonate the volatile fuel. 

Now Shepard could see the human derived tank, well at least its thermal outline, as it moved quickly, much too quickly for a period accurate version of the german panther, firing its coaxial MG and main gun into another armored car, shattering its shield and detonating the vehicle. Hit from all sides, the Batarians were beginning to panic, as the fast moving tank charged forward, uncaring of what or who it ran over, firing again, destroying another armored car, speeding past the ragged frontline, reaching past the first gun pit, and moved ever towards the black obelisk. 

By now the smoke was beginning to dissipate, either down the storm drains into the underground, or between buildings, and out down the boulevard, after a further minute of fighting, the Batarians beginning to fall back, this time taking egregious losses, and another almighty kaboom, as McIntire announced he just destroyed the robotic mule carrying the Batarians mortar ammunition alongside several mortars. 

The Batarians entered headlong flight now, seeking to protect their rear, to prevent an encirclement, and therefore a massacre. Mauled badly, their armored compliments destroyed, their aerial support dead or gone, their armored follow up halted, an armored vehicle blocking the road, and a fire team wreaking havoc on their organic artillery. All in all it looked pretty bad for them.

This would force them to actually think about how to break this particular nut. 

End chapter

Author’s notes:  
L: Holy fuck were alive… we been busy and let me give you a run down of stuff coming after this chapter, Chapter 15, which used to be the end of chapter 13, the end of 2349 short little tales of that year, chapter 16 which used to be chapter 14, followed by 2350 the year in summer 90% done, and then chapter 17 or 2351 right now there both at 0% done and not sure if it be two diffrent chapter or one chapter.

Off in nowhere land I restarted 7th Fleet Lost to keep me sharp, you can find it on fanfiction as the rewrite, and I may start another side project in the next few weeks, I’m still mulling it over though since it no ware near my normal sci fi meets sci fi fare. 

BloodRaven: Okay, six months and a day later, with about twenty of the pages done in 3 days in a car alone, lots of thinking, and a kinda rushed end here where I for the love of god just wanted this chapter done, here we are.

We wanted a more shanxi esque battle, where it would be multiple chapters following shepard, and it presented some challenges, can’t use multiple viewpoints to convey information, so logical deduction is more necessary on shepards part, including false logic. Other than that I’ve worked hard to eliminate the usage of the word “and” as much as possible, so I hope that fits better, any confusion on early events to later events, I have tried to patched up as much as possible but having a gulf of months between getting to the parts means I forgot some stuff (oops) and apologize for that.

For those of your more aware than others, yes the Batarian tanks are the Varush tanks, a reference to an equally good story, Battlefield: Wars of the Systems Alliance.


End file.
